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SOME DETAILS 



CO:SCEIlNING 



GENERAL MOREAU, 

HIS LAST MOMENTS. ~ 

POILOWEB BX 

A SHORT BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR. 



BY PAUL SVININE. 

lUAItGEl) TO ACCOMPANY THE GENERAL 02f THE CONTINEJTT 



Second American from the London idiiio7i^ 



TO WHICH IS ADDEDj 

A FUHERAL OUATIOF, 

PRONOUNCED AT ST, PETERSBURG, 

IN HONOR OP 

GEXEMAL MOEEIU. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH* 

BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY ROWE AND HOOFSR. 



■ -^l^-v 



TO 

MADAME MOREAU. 

Madam, 

I HAVE ventured ®n a sketch of tlie last epoeli of 

yom* illustrioug liiisbaod's life 5 I feel how much I 
have been unequal to the task I had imposed ou my- 
self; hut if I liavs succeeded in expressing the admira- 
tion I ever experienced for his simple and modest vir- 
tues, and the regrets inspired by his loss, to every no- 
ble and generous heart; if I have collected a few 
eutlines which will not be disdained by those to whom 
one day will belong the care ©f painting this great 
eharacter 5 I dare believe, that you will not accuse 
me of presumption, and that you will judge with in- 
dulgence, of a recital, in which I have solely consult- 
ed truth, and my own profound respect for the memory 
©f General Moreau. 

Be pleased to accept, Madam, the assurance of 
the profoundrespect, with which I have the honor to be, 
Your very h«mbl«. 

And obedient servant, P'. 8. 

London, 1st jy*ovembiir, ISll^. 



SOiME DETAILS 

CONCERNING -> 

GEKESAL MOREAU, 

&;c. ^c- Sfc, 

The great militarj talents of General 
Moreau were known to all Europe; but 
much less known were his frank and loyal 
character— his mild and affable manners : 
his private virtues were such, as to induce 
those who intimately observed him, to be- 
lieve that he had confined himself to the 
practice of domestic duties. On beholding 
him, every one was surprised that so much 
simplicity could be compatible with so much 
glory. It is in this point of view that I under- 
take to exhibit this great man j as well as 
through the different circumstances attend- 
ing his return to Europe, until the fatal mo- 
ment which terminated so fair a life. Who? 
alas ! could have supposed, when I was trac- 

9^ 



m 



ing the features of g^oodness, generosity, and 
candoiir, which rendered him so dear to me, 
and collecting the facts which prove with 
what enthusiasm he was welcomed in Ger- 
many, that I should have to fulfil the mourn- 
ful duty of doing justice to his memory 1 

It was in America that I first knew Gen- 
eral oreau ; and I have subsequently had 
frequent opportunities of seeing him In the 
detail of his private life, constantly worthy 
of his great name, and ever meriting the af- 
fection of his neighbours, who distinguished 
him solely by the title of oijr good Moreai^. 

On his arrival on the transatlantic conti- 
nent, General Moreau, his family having 
been obliged to prolong their stay in Europe, 
cho eto take ajourney of observation through 
a country so abundant in new and extraordi- 
nary aspects to the eye of a stranger. After 
visiting the Falls of Niagara, he descended 
the Ohio and Mississippi, returning after- 
wards by land to the spot from whence he 
set out. During this journey he acquired a 
perfect knowledge of that part of America 



through which he passed ; which is a proof 
of the habitual accomplishment he possessed} 
as a military man, of ascertaining at a glance, 
the situations which render a country remark- 
able. 

On his return from this journey he purchas- 
ed a handsome country-house at Morrisville, 
below the Fall of the Delaware. It was 
there that he in part found the happiness of 
•which his cruel rival had sought to deprive 
him ; it was there that, surrounded by a 
charming family, and steadfast friends, he 
seemed so much to lose sight of the injustice 
whose victim he had been, that he was never 
heard to mention it, and rarely to name him 
who was the author of it. 

In all that Moreau said or did, it was evi- 
dent that he himself wished to forget what 
he had been, and was also desirous that others 
should forget it ; but though in the first mo- 
ment his perfectly artless manners and his un- 
assuming tone, rendered it difficult to recog- 
nize ill hhii, the great man, yet the contrast 
t)f that simplicity with his great renown and 



8 

Ms lofty deeds, soon filled the mind with ad« 
miration, and there was no one who must not 
with enthusiasm contemplate the hero in the 
meek attire of his virtues and of his domes- 
tic habitudes. 

His fortune, though extremely lessened 
by the persecutions directed against him, and 
by the obligation which had been imposed 
upon him of paying the enormous costs of 
the law-proceedings in which he had been 
basely implicated, afforded him the means of 
gratifying his inclination towards hospitality 
and the relief of the unfortunate. His was 
an open house to his numerous friends ; it 
breathed an inexpressible charm, compound- 
ed of all that interest which must ever be 
caused by the sight of a hero, proscribed, 
yet superior to misfortune ; and of the ad- 
miration which could not be v*'ithheld from 
his young and beautiful consort, who embel- 
lished his retreat vv ith talents and qualities 
which had shone in the circles of one of the 
first capitals in the universe. 



The situation of his estate afforded him 
the free gratification of his taste for fishing 
and hunting. There could not be any thing 
more touching than to see him bring home 
alone in a b at the fruits of these amuse- 
ments, and revisit the bosom of his family, 
ever most happy in hi.s return. 

In the month of December he resumed his 
residence in New-York, At that residence 
he saw persons of all opinions and of all 
parties 5 but his prudent reserve restrained 
each within proper bounds. The voices of 
faction were silent before him ; and he seem- 
ed to impart to all about him thai spirit of 
conciliation and impartiality which charac- 
terized the whole of his conduct. It was 
with regret if he ever engaged in politics ; 
Indeed it might have been said, that having 
found more happiness in the new world than 
he could reasonably expect from it, he felt 
repugnance in occupying himself with any 
crisis which was then agitating or about to 
agitate the old world. Yet the American 
politicians consulted him as their oracle? and 



10 

perceived with astoniiih!nent that almost all 
his conjectures were in the sequel verified. 

Great, however, as might be the aversion 
he seemed to entertain from whatever re- 
minded him of days marked with troubles 
and misfortunes, he could not avert his 
thoughts and his regards from his country 
and the love he bore her, as well as the hope 
of being one day recalled to contribute to- 
ward the re-establishment of her repose and; 
gbry, urged him congtantly to reject the bril- 
liant offers, which were made: hioi, in order, 
that he might devote his services to other 
countries. But the.disiisters-which the.FrencJi 
armies, had undergone, in Russia, so. aSicted 
his heart on account of the warm attachment 
he bore towards France? and- irritated him sq 
strongly against the man in whom they origi- 
nated, and v/ho in that enterprise, equally 
barbarous and senseless, had sacrificed the 
fiowerof the French warriors, that he thought 
he could no longer refuse the aid of his tal- 
ents toward the success of the common cause, 
and toward the general deliverance. He 



11 

©ften said to me, in bitter sorrov/, ^' that man 
heaps shame and o^robrium on the French 
name. He lays up in store for my unhappy 
country the hatred and curses of the uni- 
verse. The French will soon he worse treat- 
ed even than the Jews; more persecuted 
than that very nation, proscribed as it is by 
the contempt and the anathemas of every 
other people." 

Having lost the hope of seeing his coun- 
try saved by some vigorous burst on the part 
of his countrymen in the interior of France, 
he thought it his duty to contribute to her 
salvation by uniting himself to a power to 
which no ambitious views with respect to 
France could be imputed, and which had 
taken up arms, only to repel the unjust ag- 
gression of which the latter had been the 
instrument. He consequently acceded to 
the wishes of his Majesty the Emperor of all 
the Russias ; but placing implicit trust in 
iiimj whose generous and magnanimous 
heart he was satisfied that he knew, ;||| re- 
fused all the blFers made to him by his Im- 



12 

perial Majesty's Minister to the United States, 
and would not make utiy preliminary stipu- 
lations ; there being no bounds to his confi- 
dence in the Prince who invited him, and his 
motives being totally different from those 
which actuate military men under other cir- 
cumstances, to enter into the service of a 
foreign power. 

Perceiving that the field of action was 
about to open on the continent, he felt how 
indispensable it was that he should be present 
on the theatre of military operations before 
the month of June, and I have several times 
heard him express an impatient anxiety to 
arrive soon enough for his counsels to be of 
some use. But at the same time his heart 
was agitated by cruel struggles, divided as 
he was between his duty to his country, and 
the love he bore to his consort and child, who 
had both been in France ten months for the 
sake of their health. He shuddered to leave 
those two cherished beings under what he 
ca^ed the claws of the tyrant, not being cer- 
tain whether his consort had received the 



13 

letters in which he informed her of his de- 
parture. But it seems that notwithstanding 
the great distance by which they were sep- 
arated, these great souls had understood each 
other, for in the month of May, General 
Moreau received from his lady a communi- 
cation, the secret of which he alone was able 
to recognize, and of which none but she 
could have conceived the allegory ; by this 
he saw that she supposed he must go, and 
that she had taken her measures accordingly. 
At length he determined to set out in the 
beginning of June. The Russian minister 
immediately demanded from Admiral Cock- 
burn a licence for an American vessel going 
to Europe with a messenger ; the Admiral, 
to whom the secret of thig voyage had been 
confided, readily afforded every necessary 
facility to it. All our anxiety was after- 
Wards engrossed by the means of conceal- 
ing our projected departure from the knowl- 
edge of Napoleon's Minister who would not; 
have failed either to despatch a French pri- 
vateer to capture us, or to employ the whole 
2 



14 

power of his intrigues in order to detain us« 
Our determination to wait the departure of 
the Minister of the United States, who was 
going to France in the Argus, occasioned 
our own departure to be delayed some days. 

At length on the 21st day of June, I em- 
barked with General vloreau at Hell Gate, 
on board the ship Hannibal, 550 tons bur- 
then, and one of the best sailers in the 
American marine. 

We soon lost sight of the American coast, 
and a favourable wind bn ught us on the 1st 
of July to the Bank of Newioundland, where 
we remained ten hours to fish for cod, a di- 
version which afTordtd some relief to the 
mind of General Moreau From tlierice un- 
til we arrived off Gottenburg we did not see 
a single sail, having a wiud constaDtiy fa- 
vourable, and being surrounded b}^ logs 
which seemed to protect us against the 
French and American privateers, from whom 
v^e had every thing to fear. I Gau?ed Gen- 
eral Moreau to notice this, by telling him we 
were evidently under the iEgis of Provi- 
dence. 



15 

On the 22d of July we made the coast of 
Norway, and were hailed by ao English 
frigate. It was the Hermodry, Capt. Chat- 
ham. He, learning from me that General 
Moreau was on board, leapt into his boat to 
come and offer us all the services in his pow- 
er. It was by him that General Moreau was 
informed of the arrival of his consort in 
England, which entirely dispelled the cloud 
which had from time to time hung over his 
brow during the passage. 

On the 24th of July we entered the port 
of Gottenburg. During the whole vayage 
the General had enjoyed the most perfect 
health J and reading was his favourite occu« 
pation. I shall never forget this happy 
epoch of my life. I gave myself up entire- 
ly to the pleasure of hearing him discourse 
on a great diversity of subjects. His man- 
ner of expressing himself, though pure and 
often elegant, was quite his own ; it partook 
of the frankness of a warrior, and the polite- 
ness of a man of the world. He laid open 
his thoughts with clearness and ease ; so 



1^ 

much had he read and observed, that he im- 
parted the greatest variety and unabating 
interest to our conversation. The only 
topics oo which it was difficult to lead him 
to speak, were the facts which constituted 
his military glory, and the persecutions he 
had suffered on the part of his enemies. He 
could not pardon Bonaparte for the evils 
which this man had caused France to suiier ; 
but he forgave him all those with which he 
had afflicted him. His angelic soul was a 
stranger to hatred, and his heart rejected 
every idea of private revenge. The only 
matters I could gather from him as to his 
imprisonment, related to the refusals and the 
honest pride with which he incessantly op- 
posed the insinuations of Napoleon's agents, 
whose endeavours were to induce him to 
make some advances toward the latter, 
which might tend to an approximation.— 
When Bonaparte had lost the hope of sacri- 
ficing General Moreau, he sent F**** to the 
Temple to propose to him the conditions on 
vrhickhe would grant him his liberty an^ 



17 

foe reconciled to him ; but they were dryly- 
rejected by the General, who said he pre- 
ferred his own lot to that of his persecutor. 
When he arrived on the frontiers of Spain^ 
the officer who had accompanied him thither 
by order of the police, told him mysterious- 
ly, that if he had any intention of writing to 
the Emperor he might do so, and wait an 
answer on the frontiers, which could not 
fail to be prompt and favourable. The Gen- 
eral answered that he would not write to the 
person whom the officer called Emperor, nor 
would he have any intercourse whatever 
with him. On our passage he often spoke 
to me with tenderness of General Pichegruj 
whose great talents and energetic virtues he 
admired, and whose lamentable end he inces- 
santly deplored. He also delighted to ex- 
patiate on the genius and military talents of 
our immortal SouvorofF, of whom-, however, 
he judged with impartial severity. . He had 
taken some pains to correct the errors made 
by the historians of that General, but unfor- 
tunately the notes he had made on the sub- 

9* 



18 

ject, as well as many others equally interesl- 
ing, were lost along with his library, in the 
fire which consumed his country-house in 
December, 1811. 

On the 26th July, we landed at Gotten- 
burg. The first visit of the General* was to 
the Governor ; he was afterwards disposed 
to view the town, but the eagerness of the 
multitude, and their demonstrations of joyj 
soon obliged him to give up the walk. 

On the same day, he wrote to the Empe- 
ror of Russia and to the Prince Royal of 
Sweden. On the 27th, he paid a visit to 
Marshal Von Essen. The latter General ? 
expressing, with the frankness and sincerity 
of an old soldier, the joy he felt at seeing 
him, said to me, " You have brought us a 
reinforcement of 100,000 men ; what pleas- 
ure his arrival will alFord to our Prince Roy- 
al, who is incessantly speaking of his friend, 
General Moreau. How many times has the 
Prince repeatedly told me, that Moreau was 
born a general,— that he had the conception, 
the glance, (coup d'oeli) the decision of a 
great captain !" 



19 

For more than a year, the report had been 
spread in Sweden, that General Morean 
would come into that kingdom. This report 
originated in the following circumstance : 
when the Prince Royal, accompanied by the 
Marshal, repaired to Stockholm, he asked the 
latter, every time that they passed a hand- 
some country-house, " Is that to be sold ?" 
and on the Marshal's observing to him, thai 
the King had five superb castles ; his Royal 
Highness answered, that the only object of 
these questions was to find out a handsome 
habitation for his friend. General Moreau. 

During the few days that General Mo- 
reau remained at Gottenburg, he busied him- 
self among his country-equipage, that is to 
say, he caused to be laid aside the greater 
part of his effects, to be forwarded to Russiaj 
and reserved only some maps, of which he 
possessed a valuable collection, together with 
a few changes of linen. Few men were 
.nore limited than he was, in their personal 
wants : he could do without every thing that 
was not strictly necessary ; and a servant 



20 

was, to him, almost a superfluity. When I 
testified to him my great astonishment at 
seeiiv^i him .so independent of all which con- 
stitutes the indispensable necessaries of exist- 
ence, he answered " Such should be the 
life of a military man ; he must know how 
to bear the want of every thing ,• never be 
discouraged by privations; it is thus that we 
made war. The General in chief had 
scarcely a single carriage. Oar baggage 
never encumbered our march ; and on our 
retreat, we were never hampered with those 
numerous equipages wiiich occasion the loss 
of more men to an army than a retreat does." 
He had a way of arranging his packages, 
which deserves to be mentioned here : he 
divided his money, his clothes, his linen, and 
other necessary effects, as equally as possible, 
and deposited portions in each of them, so 
that he was almost certain of not being ex- 
posed to the privations to which milirary 
men, who are less provident, must ever b© 
exposed by the chances of war. 



21 

On tlie first of August we left Gotten- 
burg ; from that moment our journey, as far 
as Estadt, was, to Gen. Moreau, a triumph- 
al procession ; every one disputed the hon- 
our of seeing and having him at his house. 
We almost constantly found the proprietors 
of the castles in the neighbourhood of our 
route, waiting for us, at the relays, to offer 
their services to the General : he enchanted 
eYcry body by his manners and his conver- 
sation. 

At Estadt W8 found a Svv'edish brig of war? 
on board of which the General was conduct- 
ed by the Swedish Admiral General, who 
paid him the highest honours. The passage 
lasted forty-eight hours ; and on the 6th of 
August, v^e anchored in the road of Stral- 
sund. I went first on shore to announce 
our arrival to the commandant of the place, 
who told me, that the General was expected, 
and that an aide-da-camp had a letter to de- 
liver to him from the Prince Royal. He 
landed at noon, and was saluted with twenty 
one guns ; the ship's crew being on the 



OC) 



masts. He was received at the porl: by all 
the Swedish generals and superior officers, 
who accompanied him to the palace, through 
the midst of the inhabitants, raising contin- 
ual huzzas; and by the troops, who paid 
him military honours. He was at dinner 
v/ith the commandant, when the arrival of 
the Prince Royal was announced to him— 
he flew to meet hioi ; but as soon as the 
Prince perceived him, he darted from his 
carriage, rushed into his arms, and lavished 
on him the warmest expressions of friend- 
ship : this truly affecting interview drew 
tears from all eyes. From that moment, 
the first question which the Prince Royal put 
to those who addressed him, was, "Have 
you seen Moreau ?" 

During the three days that these two greaS 
men passed together, tiiey never quitted each 
other ; they employed that interval in con- 
certing the grand plan which is to give re- 
po?e and happiness to the universe On the 
foil J wing, day, they went to visit the fortiii- 
cat'xns of Stralsuod, and were present when 



23 

the English troops entered into that towii^ 
under the command of General Glbbs.— 
The General was much satisfitd at nndiog 
here Coant Walmoden, vvith whom he had 
a long conference. It was then, also, that 
we were joined by Colonel Rapatcl, his 
former aid-de-caoip. 

We left Str.il^und at three o'clock in the 
morning. ' What I have said of the manner 
in which Moreau was received in Sweden, 
scarcely affords an idea of the reception 
given hioi in Prussia : — every one expressed, 
in his own way, the joy which his presence 
caused. The innkeepers refused his money 
—the post masters furoi^hed him their best 
horses ; scarcely did his cirriage prop an in- 
stant ere it was surrounded by a mulritude 
eager to see him and applaud iiim. He was 
far from ascribing to himselfrtll this homage. 
«' iliese good peopte," said he, *' pro^'e by 
all these demoni^trations, the hatred they 
bear to Bonaparte, and the desire which iini- 
mates them to be forever freed frorn him/' 
The effect caused by his presence, produced 



24 

several touching scenes, from among which, 
I shall only cite one, reniarkable for its sim- 
plicity. At the gate of a small town, an old 
grey-haired corporal asked me the name of 
the traveller whom I accompanied, and as 
soon as I had uttered that of General Mo- 
reau, he repeated it thrice with great signs 
of astonishment ; then with tears in his eyeSf 
he eagerly seized the General's hand, and, 
notwithstanding his efforts, lepeatedly kissed 
it, calling him " our father, our father.'* He 
then called loudly to three invalids, who com- 
posed the whole guard of the gate, and form- 
ed them in line to salute the General, who 
was deeply affected by this simple and artless 
testimony of the interest which his presence 
inspired. 

In proportion, as we advanced into a 
country where every thing recalls to mind 
the glory of the great^ Frederic, General 
Moreau astonished me by the knowledge he 
possessed, not only of the political and mili- 
tary events which rendered it interesting, 
but also of its manufacturing and territorial 



25 

resources. Charles XII. and Frederic the 
Great were his favorite heroes ; the first, on 
account of his grand character and astonish- 
ing intrepidity ; the second, on account of 
that expanded genius and that vigorous soul 
which never displayed their means to great- 
er advantage, than in the midst of the great- 
est reverses ; he admired him equally as a 
sage, a hero, and a king, *' He," said the 
General, " never abandoned his army when 
surrounded by dangers ; nor was he ever at 
a loss how to manage it in the midst of bat- 
tles. His victories were the fruit of the 
highest combinations ; seconded by a coup 
d'oeil, the most accurate and just, by the rar- 
est degree of sang froid, and by a courage 
such as it best becomes a Sovereign to dis^ 
play. The fury-tending tactics of Bona- 
parte have entirely overthrown the art of 
v/ar ; battles are now no longer any thing 
but butcheries; it is not as formerly, by 
sparing the blood of the soldiers, that a cam- 
paign is terminated ; but, in fact, by making 
that blood How in torrents. Napoleon has 
3 



36 

gained his victories solely by mortal dint of 
men. ' 

In passing to New Oremburg, where the 
head quarters of the Prince of Sweden were, 
the venerable Marsjial Steding, being inform- 
ed of the arrival of Gentral Moreau, in- 
stantly rose from table to go and invite him 
to dinner. I never witnessed more concord, 
more harmony, than in the reunion of those 
brave warriors, who listened with enchant- 
ment to a great man, whom they had until 
then known only by his exploits. 

We entered Berhn at eight o'clock in the 
evening. As soon as the report was spread 
of General Moreau's arrival in that capital, 
the streets which terminated at his hotel, and 
the rampart which fronted it, were filled by 
a great multitude, who testified their joy by 
huzzas a thousand times repeated. On the 
next day, he went to pay a visit to his High- 
ness Prince Frederic, and to his Excellency 
the Russian Ambassador, General Suctelen, 
and to General Bulow. We quitted Berlin 
thn same day at noon, accompanied by a 



27 

still more considerable multitude than that; 
which had welcomed us the evening before. 
On our way, we found in each town and 
village, deserters from the French army, 
mostly Germans and Italians, who all beg- 
ged to serve among the allied troops. Among 
them we found a single veteran who had serv- 
ed under Moreau ; the rest were all but very 
young. This brave man recognised, with 
tears in his eyes, his former General, and as- 
sured him that his memory was deeply en- 
graven in the hearts of the French soldiers, 
and also that Napoleon was so frightened at 
this, that he had forbidden, under pain of 
death, that any one should utter the name of 
Moreau in the army, and declared that no- 
thing was more false than the rumor of his 
arrival on the continent. The veteran added, 
that there now remained very few soldiers 
who had fought in the former campaigns on 
the Rhine ; that the greater part had perish- 
ed in Russia, and that the small number of 
those who had escaped that disastrous cam- 
paign, was daily diminishing, on account of 



i>8 

the necessity which existed of placing the ve- 
terans in front, in order to animate and sus- 
tain the children of whom the greater part of 
Bonaparte's army was composed. The Gen- 
eral chatted a pretty long while with him, 
and on asking what was the motive which 
induced hiai to desert, he answered, " My 
General, there is no longer any pleasure in 
serving in the French army ; nothing is to be 
seen there but children, who never consent 
to fight until their ears have been stunned by 
the roar of two hundred pieces of cannon." 

Near Olau we met General Pozzo di Bor- 
go, who informed us that the Austrians had 
joined the allies, and spoke of the impatience 
with which Mor.eau w^as expected at head 
quarters. 

Having learnt at Glatz that the Emperor 
was to pass the night at Ratiboschitz, we di- 
rected our way toward that place, where we 
arrived unfortunately two hours after his 
Imperial IVbjesty had quitted it for Prague. 

When we entered the high road leading 
to Prague, we found it covered with the 



2§ 

Russian park of artillery. The General ad- 
mired the steadiness of the men, the beauty 
of the draught horses, the lightness of the 
carriages and of the cannons. " It is thus>" 
said he, " that the thunders of war should 
be borne ; the appearance of your artillery 
already explains to me the superiority it has 
maintained during the late campaigns." He 
caused our carriage to go slower, in order to 
examine this branch of our military material, 
more in detail. 

We soon found ourselves in the midst of 
the Imperial Russian Guard, and the name 
of General Moreau, which immediately flew 
from mouth to mouth, made the most lively 
impression on those brave men. The Gene- 
rals Miloradovitz, Ermoloif, and Rosen, hast- 
tened to come and testify to him tneir satis- 
faction at seeing him in the army, and accom= 
panied us to a great distance. Contentment 
was exhibited on all faces ; our young offi- 
cers rushed before our carriage to contem- 
plate their great model The General be- 
stowed just praise on their good behaviour 
3-^ 



30 

and their martial air. " Behold," said he to 
me, '* the heroes of Pultu^k, of Eyiau, of 
Smolensk ; one might undertake every thing 
with such men." 

We were compelled, by an accident which 
happened to our carriage, to remain four 
hours at Konigsgratz, which afforded the 
General time to go and visit the Prince Roy- 
al of Prussia, who was in the town. The 
young Prince received him with the most 
charming manners; warmly expressed to him 
the joy he felt on seeing him ; and during a 
conversation of some hours spoke to him 
chiefly of his campaigns, which he had very 
sedulously studied. 

On the 16th of August, at eight o'clock 
in the evening, we arrived at Prague ; it was 
the evening before the rapture of the armis- 
tice. Scarcely had we alighted when the 
General sent me with Col. Rapatel to receive 
the orders of his Majesty the Emperor \lex- 
der, whom we found just on the point of go- 
ing out v^'ith the Emperor of Austria to the 
theatre. Colonel Rapatel received orders to 



31 

be at the Palace after the phy was over» 
His Mcijesrj, after expressing to him the en- 
tire satisfaction which General Vioreau's ar- 
rival gave him, told the Colonel he supposed 
he would take repose after the long and fa- 
tiguing journey he had just performed, and 
that he himseif would postpone until next day 
the pleasure of receiving him. At the same 
time the Emperor sent one of his aids-de- 
camp to compliment the vjeneral. 

On the next day at half past eight in the 
morning, i was going out of our apartment, 
when I met the Emperor jast about to enter : 
I had but just time to apprize the General of 
the arrival of his Majesty, who embraced as 
soon as he addressed him ; and quitted him 
after a very animated conversation, which 
lasted t vo hours. On quitting his Majesty, 
the General came to nie with tears in his 
eyes, and said to me in a softened voice, 
*< Ah ! my dear S — — , what a man is the 
Emperor ! from this moment I have con- 
tracted the svveet and sacred obligation of 
sacrificing my life for him. There is no one 



32 . 

who would not die to serve him. How much 
are all the flattering reports which I have 
heard relative to him, how much are all the 
prepossessions I had enterlained in favor of 
him, beneath that angel of goodness !" 

The General then repaired to the Castle, 
where his Majesty presented him to their Im. 
perial Highnesses the Grand Duchesses of 
Weimar and of Oldenburg. He was en- 
chanted with their wit, their mental acquire- 
ments, and their manners. On quitting them 
he went to visit the Ministers and the Gene» 
rals. In the evening he had a very interest- 
ing conversation with Count Metternich. 

On the 1 8th at noon the General was pre- 
sented by his Majesty the Emperor of Russia 
to his Majesty the Emperor of Austria, who 
received him with the greatest marks of dis- 
tinction, and among other things, thanked 
him for the moderation and mildness he had 
constantly shewn on every occasion, during 
the period of the campaigns on the Rhine ; 
adding, that the personal character of the 
General had very much contributed to db 



33 

minish the evils of war with regard to the 
subjects of his Imperial Majesty. 

His Majesty the King of Prussia had just 
arrived at Prague. The Emperor Alexan- 
der earnestly desired to }»resent the Geileral 
to him, but foreseeing at the same time that 
the latter, having to set out the next day for 
the army, had scarcely time sufficient for 
preparations of the most indispensable kind, 
his Majesty invited the General to go and 
wait his orders at home. We were so wait- 
ing when all on a sudden the Emperor 
entered with the Kin^ of Prussia, and ad- 
dressing himself to the General said, ^' Gen- 
eral Moreau ; his Majesty the King of Prus- 
sia." This Prince accosted him by saying, 
that he had come " with a great deal of 
pleasure to see a General so renowned for 
his talents and his virtues." He then added 
in a more touching tone, *' how much he 
admired the motives which had urged him 
to repair to the army of the allies, and how 
much he relied on his talents and his virtues 
for the success of the common cause." The 



34 

two Sovereigns then closeted themselves 
^\lth him lor two hours. 

In treating Moreau with so much distinc- 
tion, the Emperor shewed that h . knew, from 
the Dature of his own heart, what was cal- 
culated to captivate that of a great man. 
Decorations and rewards of all kinds were 
nothing in comparison with that reception, in 
which his Imperial Majesty for an instant 
forgat the supreme rank, in order by a bril- 
liant, advance, to honor a man whose milita- 
ry renown vras his least merit. The latter 
felt It so deeply, that he could not speak in 
cool deliberate terms of that august Sover- 
eign, and when he heard him once called by 
one of the Generals, '^ the best of Princes," 
he replied briskly, *' how, Sir ? say the best 
of men." 

The General told me that his Imperial 
Majesty had stated to him in a few hours the 
preceding campaign in a manner so precise, 
so clear, and with observations so just, com- 
ments so profound, that he fancied he was 
listening to the most experienced of Gene- 



35 

rals. He permitted himself to put the most 
detailed qnestion to the I'mperor ; vvhic'i 
gave his Majesty occasion to explain nil U:.q 
marches and all the oianoeiivres f the m ovles, 
and in that manner to supply whatever was 
obscure or incomplete in the officii] reports, 
which were the o.ily docuaients which t!ie 
Gc;neral had read in America, in order to 
form an idea of those movements. After 
thi.T conversation I often heard vloreau say, 
that if any thing ijipaired the ma y perfec- 
tions with which the Emperor was enuawed, 
it was an excess of modesty. He also pro- 
fessed the highest admiration of the Grand 
Duchess of Oldenburg; ; '* she is," said he, 
** the great Catheiine herself; her genius 
astonishes ; and her manners captivate all 
who know her." 

On the 1 9th, in the evening, Moreau set 
out for the army with one of his Imperial 
Majesty',^ .dds-de-caaip, and left me with Col- 
onel ^^.apatel to make those arrangements 
which his nuaierous visits prevented h'lm from 
attending to. We were to rejoin him next 
day. 



36 

How sweet was it for me to hear, after his 
departure, the encomiums which every one 
passed upon him. In two days he had won 
all hearts ; his frankness and his noble sim- 
plicity had removed all ideas of jealousy 
whica might have arisen against him on wit- 
nessing, the welcome with which he had been 
received; Every one highly applauded the 
unlimited confidence which his Imperial Ma- 
jesty placed in him. The General himself 
had charged me to repeat to all those who 
inquired about him, that he had no other am- 
bition than to concur, with his means and 
experience, to the success of the common 
cause, the triumph of which must necessa- 
rily restore happiness and peace to his own 
coun ry, in the bosom of whch he wished to 
close his days in the practice of the domestic 
virtues. 

Colonel Rapatel and myself had the hon- 
our to be presented on the 20th- to their Im- 
perial Highnesses the Grand Duchesses of 
Weimar and Oldenburg, for whom General 
Moreau had left us a letter. We had every 



37 

eason to be satisfied with the gracious recep- 
tion they gave us. Their Highnesses asked 
us a host of questions about our General, 
and required us to let them know every par- 
ticular of his manner of living in the New 
World. We had the pleasure to hear them 
express themselves with regard to him in 
terms of heartfelt admiration ; they said they 
had never seen a man so well deserving of 
renown, and, having so just a right to make 
the highest pretensions, to be at the same 
tinie so modest, so simple, and so frank. 
Their Imperial Highnesses, in an audience 
they gave me on the following day, charged 
me to remind General Moreau, that they ea- 
gerly expected news of him, and to urge him 
speedily to let them have his consort along 
with them ; adding, that no one in the world 
interested them so much as Madame Moreau. 
The Grand Duchess Catherine gave Colonel 
Rapatel a letter for the General 

On the 25th, we rejoined him at Roichstadt, 
six miles from Dresden, From thence, he 
immediately set out on his approach to that 
4 



38 

eapital, and in this journey, as in all others, 
accompanied his Majesty the Emperor. The 
whole of the next day, he also passed on 
horseback, accompanying his Imperial Ma- 
jesty, and his Prussian Majesty. The attack 
on Dresden commenced at four o'clock in the 
afternoon, and towards evening became very 
serious ; the town was seen to be on fire in 
twelve places. At eight o'clock, the General 
made a sign to me to follow him, and we 
descended into the valley, where the Aus- 
trian cavalry was ranged in order of battle. 
He went along the front of the columns with 
the greatest rapidity, in the midst of bullets 
and bombs which fell on all sides, and stopt 
only to speak to General Chastler, who re- 
ceived him with every demonstration of the 
most lively interest and respect. The Gen- 
eral then moved further in advance, to recon- 
noitre the batteries of the enemy. We ever 
experience, when near a hero, a feeling of 
assurance ; this sentiment, in the present in- 
stance, hindered nie from rejecting on the 
perils that surrounded me ; but seeing with 



39 

what temerity Moreau exposed himself, and 
feeling of what high value his life was to us, 
I warmly expressed to him my fears, conjur- 
ing him to think on the deep sorrow which 
would be spread among the allies by the loss 
of the man on whom so many of their hopes 
rested. He listened to me, and resolved to 
return and be near the Emperor. We were 
lighted on our w^ay by the flames of Dresden 
then burning, and by the explosion of the 
bombs which fell at some distance*from us. 
We found the Emperor Alexander uneasy 
respecting what had become of Moreau, 
whom he had seen at his side the whole day. 
The latter gave his Imperial Majesty an ac« 
count of the positions of the enemy at all 
points. 

In the night, he had an occasion of becom- 
ing known to His Imperial Highness the 
Archduke Constantine, who came to an- 
nounce, that the intention of the enemy w^as 
to debouche on the right. 

The accounts given by the prisoners, con- 
firmed the arrival of iiOnaparte at Dresden, 



at one in the afternoon, with 60,000 men, 
part of whom, who were his guards, had 
been brought in post carriages. 

It was during this day, that two Wurtem- 
^3urg regiments passed over, with drums beat- 
ing, to our side, and took their stations im- 
mediately among our troops. 

The 27th, (a fatal day ! which was marked 
by a catastrophe so afflicting to all Europe, 
so terrible to France, and so cruel toward 
the friends of order, and the admirers of real 
glory !) the weather was dreadful ; the rain, 
w^hich fell in torrents, scarcely allow^ed any 
use to be made of the artillery ; and in spite 
of every precaution, the muskets were so 
penetrated by the wet, that they became use- 
less in the hands of the soldiers. Towards 
noon, Moreau was communicating some mil- 
itary observations to his Imperial Majesty, 
who was at a very short distance, when a 
ball from one of the enemy's batteries, which 
was aiming to dismount one of ours, behind 
which these great persons w^ere conversing, 
shattered to pieces the right knee of the 



41 

General, and passing through his horse, car= 
ried away the calf of his other leg. It would 
be difficult to represent the grief which my 
Sovereign endured at the sight of this dread- 
ful blow ; he was affected by it even to tears? 
and hastened in person, to administer to the 
hero who had just been struck, all the succour 
and consolation that might either sooth or 
re-assure him. Colonel Rapatel had flown 
to his side to receive him in his arms : " I 
am lost, my dear Rapatel,'* said he, '* but it 
is most sweet to die for so good a cause, and 
before the eyes of so great a Prince." The 
Colonel sought to disguise from him his sad 
condition ; saying, it was easy to save him, 
and if a man like him had his head and his 
heart left, he might still hope to do great ser- 
vices, and to run a glorious career. But the 
General, though unwilling to damp the hopes 
of friendship, shewed, by his silence, that he 
could have no faith in these prognostics, and 
that already his great soul had perceived 
death without affright. 

A litter was hastily made with the pikes 



4a 

of the Cossacks; they covered him with 
some cloaks, and carried him away to a 
house less exposed to the fire of the enemy. 
It was there that M. Welly, first surgeon to 
his Majesty the Emperor Alexander, directly 
amputated the right leg above the knee : 
when this first operation was terminated, the 
General begged him to examine the other, 
and to tell him if it was possible to save it ; 
but on receiving for answer, that this was im- 
possible, *' well then, take it off," said he, 
coolly. I have no need to tell what invaria- 
ble firmness he displayed in the midst of the 
torments of both these amputations, or the 
care he himself took to console those whom 
he saw weeping over his sufferings ; their 
tears he reproached them with, as marks of 
a pusillanimous friendship. 

In a short time, notwithstanding all the 
efi^jrts that had been emplo} ed to conceal 
this catastrophe fiom the armies, the news 
spread rapidly, and caused a general conster- 
nation. I'he army having received orders 
to make a movement to approach that of 



43 . 

General Blucher, Moreau was removed t^ 
Passendorf, where he passed the night : he 
had a short, but tranquil slumber, and very 
little fever ; he took only a httle soup, and 
some wine and water. 

On the 28th5 at four o'clock in the morn« 
ing, we placed him on litters better contrived 
than the other, and furnished with curtains. 
Forty Croats were ordered out to carry him, 
and ten Cossacks of the guard served him as 
an escort. The morning w^as very rainy ; 
the General frequently asked for water to 
refresh his mouth, and on arriving at Dip- 
poideswaiden, he took a little bread in some 
soup. He seemed very tranquil, and even 
he ilthy. I had an opportunity of seeing here 
the King of Prussia, who was repairing to 
Topiitz. His Majesty inquired most press'- 
ingly of me concerning his condition, which 
seemed deeply to affect him, and said to me, 
" I should consider his death as the greatest 
misfortune that could befall me." We con- 
tinued our route toward the frontiers of Bo- 
hemia ; and having halted at four o'clock to 



44 

give hime some repose, the Croats who car- 
ried him were relieved by some Prussian 
guards. We were afterwards met by the 
Emperor and his suite. His Majesty having 
learnt from me that the General was not 
asleep, approached him, made the most ten- 
der inquiries respecting his health, and spoke 
a few words to him respecting the positions 
occupied by the army. We arrived at night 
fall, at head-quarters. I cannot describe the 
affliction occasioned among all the troops by 
the view of this General, who, some days 
ago, had been the object of so many hopes 
and so much enthusiasm, thus borne on a 
litter and so grievously wounded. How 
many tears did I see flow down cheeks cov- 
ered with glorious scars! How many noble 
and courageous hearts have I seen unable to 
bear such an affecting picture ! 

Notwitlistanding the fatigues of the jour- 
ney, the Geueral was in a condition which 
gave hopes, wiiich were the better founded, 
since the fever vvas considerably diminished. 
M. Welly confirmed those hopes by a report 



45 

on the state of the patient. He relied on the 
purity of his blood, which he found to be 
most extraordinary, and on that greatness of 
soul which prevented the agitation of the 
mind from envenoming his bodily sufferings. 
He added, however, that there was scarcely 
a single example of recovery from such se- 
vere wounds. 

On the 29th, the Emperor supposing that 
the General might bear the motion of a car- 
riage, sent him his own coach and six; but ac- 
cording to the advice of the surgeon, it w^as 
resolved, that he should be still borne on a 
litter ; and a company of Russian grenadiers 
were allotted to us for that purpose. Though 
the road across the mountains was frightful, 
and toilsome even for a man in good health, 
the General supported the fatigues and in- 
conveniences attending it without exhibiting 
the slightest symptom of weakness ; and 
we found in that amazlag fortitude and im- 
moveable constancy, new grounds of hope. 
We met with abrupt mountains and sudden 
declivities i sometimes the roads we had to 



46 

cross were overwhelmed by torrents; at 
other times the footpaths bounded by deep 
precipices and roaring gulfs, hardly afforded 
room for the bearers of the General to walk 
in line. Thus, to the deep concern which 
his wounds occasioned us, w^ere united ap- 
prehensions almost as terrible respecting the 
dangers of the road. The Emperor overtook 
us, half-way, with his suite, and failed not, 
in person, to ask the General how he found 
himself, forbearing however to make him 
speak too much, and to advert to subjects 
w^hich might occasion him any agitation. We 
then stopt to give him some tea ; he had not 
ceased during the day, to refresh his mouth 
with cold water, which appeared to afford 
him an agreeable sensation ; but which ex- 
cited in me some vague fears, lest he should 
not be so well as he looked. 

When we descended into the great valley, 
we could distinctly hear a very brisk cannon- 
ade and saw two villages and the town of 
Tu: - ■: ' fijups. We retbubled our steps 
' '-^mkQl^ UiJmk:^.. .---ere 



47 

the headquarters of the Emperor wera ; we 
arrived there late. At eleven in the evening, 
the first dressings were removed, and the 
wounds appeared to be in a favorable state ; 
they vv-ere beginning to close, and shewed 
very little inflammation. It was in this 
place, that we heard of the victory obtained 
by the Russian guards, under the command 
of Count Osterman Tolstoy, over the corps 
of G-eneral Vandamme, which was iDfiniiel}^ 
superior to them in number. When I re- 
lated to General Moreau, the repeated acts 
of valour, by which our brave men. had dis- 
tinguished themselves in this affliir : he said 
to me, " vVe must naturally expect the great- 
est things from the best troops in the world." 
All the generals and officers who were at 
head quarters, came to make inquiries about; 
Inm, in the most earnest anxiety. 

On the 30th, at noon, we arrived at Laun; Mvl\£'>v 
and going on to Berlin, which afiords excel- 
lent mineral waters, the General desired to 
have some bottles of it, v»'hich I procured for 
him. During the vvbole journey he had coo- 



48 

tinned to refresh his mouth with spring wa- 
ter, and to drink some, mixed with wine ; 
and moreover, he seemed to us extremely 
tranquil. It was at Laun we heard of the 
total defeat of the corps of Vandamme, and 
of that Commander's being made prisoner. 
All the details on this combat, so much like 
that of Thermopylae, excited his warmest ad- 
miration. 

Iiaving learnt that the Swedish Minister 
was to despatch a courier in the evening, the 
General desired to write to Madame Mo- 
reau. We in vain observed to him, that he 
would run the risk of fatiguing himself very 
much by writing with his own hand ; he per- 
sisted in his resolution and it was on a desk 
which I held before him that he wrote with 
a tolerable steady hand, this letter, which in 
its brief, yet concise contexture, gives the lie 
anthenticaily to the calumnies which Napo- 
leon has spread abroad, respecting the man- 
ner in whicli this great man bore the dread- 
ful blow with v^hich he had been struck. 
Here is the letter : 



49 - 

«< My dear friend, at the battle of Dres- 
den, three days ago, I had both legs carried 
away by a cannon shot. That scoundrel, 
Bonaparte, is always lucky. 

«' The amputation has been performed as 
well as possible. Though the army has 
made a retrograde movement, it is not di- 
rectly backward, but sideways, and for the 
sake of getting nearer General Blucher. Ex- 
cuse my scrawl : I love thee, and embrace 
thee with ray whole heart. I charge Rapa- 
tel to finish. V. M." 

The General then shewed a great inclina- 
tion to chat ; but we complied with it as little 
as possible, well knowing how dangerous 
that would be in his situation. We were 
rather disposed to keep every body out of his 
apartment but we could not refuse to let in 
his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumber- 
land who staid nearly a quarter of an hour 
with him. This Prince told him, " he was 
very happy in becoming acquainted with 
him ; but his happiness would have been still 
5 



50 

greater, had he formed that acquaintance on 
the field of battle." The General answered, 
«' That they might probably meet together 
there, in six weeks." 

Alas! at the moment when hope was dawn- 
ing on his heart, it was leaving ours ; and 
on seeing him thus rely on the recovery of 
his health, we the more deeply felt the con- 
cern which his situation caused us. Count 
Metternich afterwards came on the part of 
the Emperor of Austria, to testify to him all 
the interest which his Majesty took in his 
condition, and quitted him after a conversa- 
tion of ten minutes. Until midnight he re- 
mained very tranquil ; but all at once, a hick- 
up and frequent vomitings having come on 
him, it was no longer possible to be mistaken 
as to the degree of danger he was in. 

On the 31st, the same symptoms continu- 
ed, and never left him a moment of repose, 
so that he sunk into a state of great weak- 
ness. The cold of death had already reach- 
ed his intestines, when the news of General 
Blucher's victory seemed to reanimate him, 



51 

and to spread through every sense, a reviv- 
ing b^lm ; but this apparent change for the 
better, could not alter our mournful forebod- 
ings. 

On the 1st of September, the physicians 
had succeeded in removing the hickup; and 
he expressed a most earnest desire to be^ 
borne on to Prague ; but he was so vi^eak, 
that we made him feel he could not bear the 
journey. He then said, it was perhaps pos- 
sible to go by water; and inquired, if there 
was not some point of communication v/ith 
the Moldau, maintaining, that at ail events,' 
the journey, as far as that river, was not too 
long for him to venture upon. He examined 
the map several times, in order to ascer- 
tahi, if what he desired could be execotpcl. 
He Avas busied in this examinaticn, and I 
was alone with him, wlien he heard shouts, 
v/hicli came from the street. He hfid the 
curiosity to learn the cause ; and on my 
telling him, they were occasioned by the ar- 
rival of General Vandamme, Vv^ho w^as mak- 
ing his entrance into the town, amidst the 



52 

liootings of the multitude; he said to me, 
with astonishing warmth, "It is high time 
that monster should be put out of condition 
for doing harm !" and he then was silent. 
He testified the greatest pleasure on being 
told, that Vandamme having complained to 
the Grand Duke Constantine, of the ill treat- 
ment they made him experience, by refusing 
him his aide-de-camp, and taking him in an 
open carriage, which might expose him to 
the insults of the populace ; that Prince an- 
swered, " that the harshest treatment would 
be even generosity toward a man, sullied 
like him, with the blackest crimes," and af- 
terwards his Imperial Highness caused his 
sword to be taken from him, which, through 
an excess of goodness, the Emperor Alexan- 
der had allowed that he should retain. The 
General sent Colonel Rapatel and me to go 
and look at Vandamme ; I found him de- 
claiming against Bonaparte, whom he accus- 
ed of having abandoned, sacrificed, betrayed 
him. I left this maniac in the midst of his 
paroxysmsiof fury, and returned to tell what 
I had seen of him. 



53 

All night, from the 1st to the 2d of Sep.- 
tember, the unfortunate Moreau was restless, 
yet he did not seem to be in pain. He never 
ceased consulting his repeater, and calling 
sometimes Colonel Rapatel, and sometimes 
me, to write, after his dictation, a letter to 
the Lmperor. At length, toward seven in 
the morning, finding myself alone with him, 
he made me take up the pen, and dictated 
to me the following lines : 

" Sire, 

" I go down to the grave with the same 

sentiments of admiration, respect, and devo- 

tedness, which your Majesty inspired me 

with, from the first moment of our inter- 



He had got on thus far, when he closed 
his eyes. I thought he was meditating on 
what he was going to dictate to me, and I 
held the pen ready to follov.^ him — but, he 
was no more ! The best, the noblest of men 
was no more ! Death had imprinted on his 
5* 



54 . 

countenance na sign of suffering, or of con- 
vulsion; he appeared to sleep a peaceful 
slumber, peaceful as was his heart at the 
moment when he was struck. It was then 
within five minutes of seven o'clock. During 
his short but painful catastrophe, never had 
his cool firmness forsaken him ; on seeing 
our tears and our sadness, he himself took 
care to console us ; ** iviy friends," said he, 
" what good is there in mourning ? thus has 
Providence willed it; we must submit with» 
out a murmur." On the evening before, 
wishing to announce to him, in the most 
gentle, and sparing manner, that the physi- 
cians had no longer any hopes, we spoke to 
him of his unalterable tranquility, of that 
calmness with which he beheld the pro^;ress 
of his disorder, &c. &c. ^ My friends," an- 
swered he, without permitting us to enter 
into particulars. '' it is because I have no- 
thing wherewith to reproach myself." Thus 
ended this hero, consecrat'ng his last action 
anri his last thought to the Sovereign whom 
he rightly regarded as the prmcipal repairer 



55 

of the wrongs and ills of Europe, as him to 
whom France would one day owe the fall of 
her tyrant, and the re-establishment of her 
happiness on the just and solid basis of legiti- 
macy. This was the observation I made to 
my Sovereign when I announced to him this 
sad intelligence. 

On arriving at Toplitz, I found his Impe= 
rial Majesty assisting with the Emperor of 
Austria, and the King of Prussia at a Te 
Deum, which was sung in the midst of the 
army to celebrate the victories just obtained 
over Bonaparte. I did not think proper to 
disturb his Majesty while entertaining all the 
consoling ideas, all the happy presages which 
this cerem ny doubtless presented to hisi 
mind ; I waited until the close, to fuliil the 
sad duty which brought me to Toplitz. His 
Majesty's emotions were extreme when I an- 
nounced to him the death I had witnessed. 
He deigned to take me by the hand, and to 
say to me in a tone of the severest grief, 
'^ that was a great man ; a very noble heart." 



56 

On quitting his Majesty T w^s surrounded 
by all the Generals and aids de-camp who 
were there ; and I felt some consolation at 
witnessing the tributes of praise, and even 
the tears, which those brave warriors bestow- 
ed on his memory. I saw several who re- 
gretted that the stroke which had carried olF 
that great man, had not taken them away in 
his stead. 

At eight o'clock his Imperial Majesty hav- 
ing caused me to come into his cabinet, gave 
me the following orders : — 1. To convey the 
body of the General to Prague to be embalm- 
ed. 2. To entrust it to Colonel Rapatel, 
whom his Im}»erial Majesty charged to ac- 
company it to St. Petersburg, in order to be 
interred in the Catholic church with all the 
funeral honours which had been paid to 
Marshal Prince KoutousofT. " Let us endea- 
vour at least to honor his memory," said the 
Emperor to me. His Majesty then ordered 
me to enter into all the details which con- 
cerned General Moreau, his wife, his daugh- 
ter, his fortune ; and desired that i shoui 



57 

set out with a letter written by his own hand 
to Madame Moreaii : " It is a consolation 
which I cannot withhold from Madame Mo- 
reau, that of sending you to wait upon her," 
said his Majesty, " she will be interested at 
seeing a man who Vv^as with her husband un- 
til his last moment." 

I have hear(j^it said that when the question 
arose between the two other Sovereigns and 
the Emperor Alexander, respecting their 
claims to the body of General Moreau, this 
Prince said, ** his ashes are too dear to me 
to let oie forego the ambition of possessing 
them in 'my capital.'* Indeed, the most dis- 
tinguished homage which his Imperial Majes- 
ty has rendered to the memory of that Gen- 
eral, is the letter of which he madn me the 
bearer, to Madame Moreau, It is impossible 
to read without the most tender emotion and 
admiration, those expressions at once touch„ 
ing and noble, which the Emperor has em° 
ployed to soften a grief, the extent of which 
he estimated by the regrets he himself expe- 
rienced. Greatness never employed a mora 



58 

worthy language, nor pity more sweet con- 
solations. Every thing, in that expansion 
of an elevated soul and a pure heart, be- 
speaks the sovereign who protects, and the 
friend who consoles. There is nothing in it 
that breathes either formality or affectation ; 
it is the impulse of the liveliest sensibility and 
the truest grief. Whatever ^tnay be written 
of Greneral Moreau will never be capable of 
equalling the tribute of regret and of eulogy 
paid to his memory in those immortal lines ; 
and if any one inquire of his desolated wid- 
ow, she will doubtless say that they have re- 
stored her to the consciousness of existence, 
that they have recalled her from the brink 
of the grave, and that in reading them she 
has been enabled to conceive that it was pos- 
sible not to sink under the most poignant 
grief with which the human heart can possi- 
bly be afflicted. Here is that letter. 

*' AIadaiM, 
*' When the dreadful misfortune which 
befel General Moreau by my side, deprived 



59 

me of the luminous mind and experience of 
that great man I cherished the hope that by 
great care it might be possible to preserve 
him to his family and my friendship. Provi- 
dence has ordained otherwise. He Ivis died 
as he has lived, in the full energy of a strong 
and constant soul. There is only one reme- 
dy for the great evils of life; it is that of 
seeing them shared. In Rosbia, Madam, 
yon will every where find these sentiments ; 
and if it be convenient for you to settle there, 
I will seek out all the means to embellish the 
existence of a person, of whom I hold it to 
be my sacred duty to be the comforter and 
the supporter. I pray you, Madam, to rely 
on it most confidently ; never to leave me in 
ignorance of any circumstance in which I 
can be at all useful to you, and to write to 
me always direct. To anticipate your wish- 
es will be always ao enjoyment to me. The 
friendship I had vow^ed to your husband goes 
beyond the tomb, and i have no other means 
of acquitting myself well, at least in part, to- 
wards him, than in acting so as to ensure, as 



60 

I shall ever be disposed to do, the well-being 
of his family. 

*' Receive, Madam, in the present cruel 
and distressing circumstances, these testimo- 
nials, with the assurance of my best senti- 
ments. *' Alexander." 

''^ Toiditx^Jke 6i/i Sept. IStS.'' 

■The Emperor the more deeply felt the loss 
he had just sustained, since he regarded Mo- 
reau as the intermedial between the Allies 
and the French nation. Ah ! who, more than 
he was capable of proving to the French, 
whom he loved so much, and to w^horn he 
was himself so dear, that it was not to reduce 
them to subjection, but to deliver them, that 
the Allies have taken up arms. 

Events had succeeded each other in such 
rapidity, that the General had not had time 
to publish a proclamation which he address- 
ed to the French nation, and which his Ma- 
jesty approved. It bore simply this title ; 
" General More'iu to fke French,' It was 
short, plain, and energetic, as was every 



61 

thing he wrote. In it he explained the object 
of his arrival on the continent, v^hich was to 
aid the French in withdrawing themselves 
from the dreadful despotism of Bonaparte ; 
he there announced that he came to sacrifice, 
if need were, his life, to restore repose and 
happiness to a country which had never 
ceased to be dear to him ; he ended by call- 
ing all the true and faithful sons of France 
to the standards of independence. This ad- 
dress entirely contradicts the proclamation^ 
dated Grosvitch, the 17th of August, which 
has been attributed to him, and in which he 
has been made to assume the title of Major 
General in the service of Russia. To this 
supposition I w^ould object; 1. That at the 
date of the 17th of August, General Moreau 
was at Prague. 2. That he had caused the 
Emperor Alexander to agree that he should 
have no title near his person, seeing that, 
having no other ambition than to restore re- 
pose to France, his sole wish, after arriving 
at the accomplishment of this great end, was 
quietly to terminate his days there in the 
6 



62 

bosom of his family. His Majesty then said to 
him, *' Well ; be then my friend, my coun- 
sel !" and are not these two titles worth all 
that a man can be ambitious of obtaining ? 

In the General's papers has been found the 
commencement of a journal of the operations 
of which he had been an eye-witness, until 
the fatal day when he was wounded : this 
has been sent to her Imperial Highness the 
Grand Duchess of Oldenburg, for whom he 
was writing it. 

At length, after the body of General Mo- 
reau had been embalmed at Prague, a so- 
lemn service was performed over it, and then 
it was left exposed at the palace of the Arch- 
bishopric for two days. The crowd which 
went thither to see him, expressed their re- 
grets in the most touching manner. 

On the 6th of September it was deposited 
in a coffin to be conveyed to St. Petersburg. 

After having seen the last duties paid to 
him, I thought only on those which the honor 
of having known him, and the advantage of 



63 

having valued him, imposed on me. Happy 
if in this brief and slight sketch I have not 
too much fallen short of the great name I 
have celebrated, and of the great man whom 
I have tried to make known to the world as 
I myself knew him ! 



BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR 



01 



GENERAL MOREAU. 



X V. MoREAu, the son of a dislinguished 
advocate, v/as born at Morlalx, in 1761. At 
the time of the revolotion he held the office 
of Provost of Jurisprudence at Rennes, and 
possessed very great influence among the 
students ; he owed it as much to his talents 
as to an air of frankness, and a most agree- 
able mien, which at first sight were prepos- 
sessing. At the epoch when the parliament 
of Bratagne was in opposition to the court, 
he ranged himself on the side of the magis- 
tracy, and w^as called the General of the 
Parliament. For five months, during which 
there existed a species of civil war between 
the partisans of that body and the governor 



65 

of the province, Moreau shewed bravery and 
even skill The Commandant of Rennes, 
having given orders to arrest him, but to 
take him alive, he opposed to the searches 
which w^ere made for him, so much pru- 
dence and intrepidity, that though he ap- 
peared every day in the public places, the 
garrison could never seize him. But when, 
in its turn, the parliament of Rennes, second- 
ed by the states of Bretagne, wished to op- 
pose the measures of the ministry for the 
convocation of the states general, Moreau 
changed sides without changing his princi- 
ples, and he was seen to command the lorces, 
which at Rennes and Nantes had organized 
themselves against the. parliamentary party. 

After having presided in January, 1790, 
over the confederation of the youths of Bre- 
tagne, at Fontivi, he was appointed com- 
mandant of the first battalion of volunteers, 
organized in his department. 

Thenceforward he seriously occupied him- 
self in the military art ; and, the result of his 
studies naturally reclaiming him to principles 
6* ^ 



66 

of order and discipline, the effervescen'^e of 
his first opinions soon made him incline to 
more moderate views ; and when the consti- 
tution of 1793 was presented to the suffrages 
of the armj, he did not dissemble his very 
great disapprobation of it ; so that his bat- 
talion was the last to accept it. 

His bravery and his talents soon made him 
conspicuous, and in 1793 he was appointed 
Brigadier-General to the army of the North. 
In April, 1794, having been made General 
of Division, at the demand of the General in 
chief, Pichegro, who had very early appre- 
ciated him, he was priocipally charged with 
the conduct of the sieges, and successively 
took Menin,YpreS} Bruges, Ostend, Nieuport, 
the Isle of Cassandria and Fort L'Ecluse. If: 
w^as at the moment they were taking posses- 
sion of this latter fortress, that he was inform- 
ed the jacobins of Brest had sent his old 
father to the scaffold, because he had con- 
sented to take care of the administration of 
the property of some Frenchmen who were 
absent. This news affected him so deeply^ 



' ^ 67 

that he would have emigrated immediately, 
if Pichegru had not observed to him that he 
was not sure he would be well received bj 
the Austriansj and that from them he had to 
apprehend a treatment similar to that which 
La Fayette had been made to undergo, as 
well as those who accompanied him in his 
flight. 

During the famous campaign of the winter 
of 1794, he commanded the right wing of 
the army of the North, and from that epoch 
laid the foundation of his jnilitary renown, 
which, supported by the suffrage of his gen- 
eral, and the opinion of the whole army, soon 
gained him the command in chief, when 
Pichegru went to take that of the Rhine and 
Moselle. 

Moreau, imitating his illustrious predeces- 
sor, soon disengaged himself from the shack- 
les imposed on him by the revolutionary gov- 
ernment established in Holland by the De- 
puties of the Convention, and having fixed 
his plan of operations, political, as well as 
military, he communicated it to Generals 



, '68 

Daendels and Dumonceau, ordering them to 
signify to the Batavian committee, that they 
should second it, and in eight days signify 
to him their obedience to this injunction. 

When Pichegru was forced to quit the 
ETmy of the Rhine and Moselle, by the bad 
proceedings of the Directory, who had suf- 
fered him to want provisions at Bassein, and 
had never allowed him sufficient forces, Mo- 
reau was appointed in his stead, and opened 
the campaign of 1796, which determined the 
elevated rank he afterwards occupied among 
the French Generals. After having repulsed 
General Wurmser, as far as Manheim, he 
was seen successively to effect the passage of 
the Rhine near Strasburg ; to attack, on the 
6th of July, the Archduke Charles at Ras- 
tadt; and, notwithstanding the great skill 
displayed by that Prince, to force him to , 
abandon the course of the Necker. After 
the battle given on the 11 th of August, near 
Heydenheim, and which lasted seventeen 
days, leaving both parties uncertain as to 
whom the success belonged, General Moreau 



69 

seeing the Austrians retiring on the Danubej 
liastened to move in advance. The Arch- 
duke Charles, having then filed toward the 
right to relieve General Wartensleben, who 
was hard pressed by Jourdain, Moreau bent 
his efforts toward the pursuit of General 
Latour. 

Notwithstanding the victory which Mo- 
reayi gained at Friedberg, near Augsburg, on 
the 24th August, and his feinl of a inarch 
on the Danube, as if he had meant to go and 
relieve Jourdain, he found himself obliged, 
on account of the reinforcements which the 
Austrians daily received from the hereditary 
states, and of the precipitate flight of that 
General, to effect his own retreat, which took 
place on the llth September. 

Here commences one of the finest military 
achievements ever mentioned in history. 
Moreau, wishing to insure the conveyance 
of his baggage, at first sought to make him- 
self master of both Banks of the Danube ; 
but, on finding the bridge of Neuburg occu- 
pied by General Nauendorff? he saw himself 



7D 

obliged to move along the right bank, and 
thence lost for the moment a point on 
which he had relied for his military opera- 
tions. But with that precision of move- 
ments, and that wisdom of combination, 
which have characterized this magnificent 
retreat, he suddenly repassed the Leek, and 
obtained some advantages over a corps of 
observation, which he astonished by his 
rapid march. The reverses he experienced 
on his right did not prevent him from beat- 
ing the Austrians at Biberach, and he would 
have obtained a decisive advantage over 
them, if the army of Conde had not held in 
check for the whole of the day, his right 
wing, with a bravery, which often in these 
campaigns, prevented the most disastrous 
defeats. 

The Archduke Charles had endeavored, 
by the most skilful manoeuvres, to dispute 
the passage of the Black Forest ; but, Mp- 
reau, through the greatest obstacles, at length 
succeeded in debouching in Brisgau, and in 
passing the Rhine at Brissac and Huninguen, 



71 

preserving on the right bank a tete-de-pont be- 
fore the latter town and the fort of Kehl. Ihe 
Archduke Charles lost before Kelil a pre- 
cious portion of time, which he might have 
better employed in going to relieve the army 
of Italy. The aiege "vas vigorously kept up, 
and notwithstanding a very brisk sortie, 
headed by Moreao in person, and in which 
he carried several works of the opposing ar- 
my, this fortress surrendered on the 81st; 
December The tete -de-pont of Huningueo, 
defended with an obstinacy quite unexam- 
pled, fell by capitulation into the hands of 
the Austrians, on the 4th of February, 1797. 
It was at this epoch that Moreau, setting 
himself above all sentiments of rivalry, which 
but too often exist among Generals, vi^ho, at 
distant points, command separate armies, on 
learning that Bonaparte was extremely hard 
pressed by the Austrian forces in Italy, de- 
termined to detach from the troops under his 
command, a corps sufficient to reinforce him, 
Theibl lowing is what Carnot says of it in 
the work which he published in 1799, in his 



7.2 

own justification as Director. of the French 
Republic. 

«' Though Bonaparte had his flanks and 
his rear free, he had not forces enough to 
warrant him in expecting decisive successes 
against the Emperor. He demanded fifteen 
thousand men ; I formed a project for giving 
him thirty * * * * These thirty thousand 
men were to be drawn from the army of the 
Rhine and Moselle primarily ; then the half 
to be replaced by the army of the Sambre and 
Meuse. Never was an order more punctually, 
more faithfully, more loyally executed, Mo- 
reau, who foresaw the necessity of this dispo- 
sition, had held for a long time a corps in re- 
serve for this very purpose ; and though his 
army was most unfortunate, because it could 
not, like the others, subsist at the expense of 
the enemy, and though the penury of our fi- 
nances was an hindrance to the supply of its 
necessities, he had made further sacrifices, in 
order that this corps should be passably well 
equipped, and ready to set out at the first 
signal. This signal is given ; the troops are 



75 

mi their march ; they arrive on the frontiers 
of Mont Blanc, before the enemy can sur- 
mise that their destination is for Italy." 

We cannot here withhold ourselves from 
citing what Carnot said on the disinterested 
conduct of Moreau on this occasion. The 
enthusiasm of that ex-Director cannot here 
be attributed to his republican opinions, but 
to the admiration excited in him by an act 
worthy of the most illustrious days of ancient 
times : We think that the manner in which 
he has expressed it is an historical homage 
which all parties will applaud. 

" O Moreau," said he, « O my dear Fa- 
bius ! how great wert thou in this circum- 
stance; How superior wert thou to those 
little rivalries among generals, which some- 
times make the best projects fail ! Let some 
accuse thee for not having denounced Pich^ 
€gru ; let others accuse thee for having done 
so ; I care not. But my heart tells me that 
Moreau could not be culpable; my heart 
proclaims thee a hero. Posterity, more just 
7 



74 

tliaii tby contemporaries, shall raise altarsr to 
thee." 

Here then behold Moreau, forgetting both 
his own perilous situation, and the sentiment 
of his own glory, and contributing to the 
success of Bonaparte, who has since sought 
to deliver him over to the axe of the execu- 
tioner, and subsequently doomed him to the 
torments of exile, when it was proved to 
him that he could not sacrifice him with im- 
punity. 

Moreau, wishing to assume the offensive? 
meditated the passage of the Rhine, but be- 
ing in want of money to construct the neces- 
sary bridges, he went to Paris, in the hope 
of obtaining from the Treasury wherewith 
to complete this operation. " I induced 
liim," says Carnot, " to set out again imme- 
diately, and to risk a coup de main, even 
though he should not be quite ready. Mo- 
reau had no need of that ; never was there 
a General more devoted, more modest. He 
sets out : and the passage of the Rhine is 
executed; he astonishes the enemy only: 



7a 

in France we were dazzled and overheated 
with victories. I did not expect such prompf: 
success/' 

In fact Moreau had effected the passage 
of the Rhine in open day-light, and by main 
force against an enemy ranked in order of 
battle on the other bank, and on the very 
day when the preliminaries of Leoben were 
signed by Bonaparte. The sequel of this 
brilliant operation was the immediate retak- 
ing of the fort of Kehlj several pieces of 
colours, the military chest, and nearly 4000 
prisoners, fell into the hands of the French. 

There had been seized at the commence- 
ment of the campaign, in the baggage- 
w^ aggon of the Austrian General Klinglin, a 
correspondence which proved the under- 
standing that subsisted between Pichep:ru, 
the Prince of Conde, and the English minis- 
ter, Wickham. This correspondence, which 
was in cipher, had been very slowly made 
out, and Moreau shewed the greatest; repug- 
nance at communicating it to the Din ctory. 
At lengtji seeing the strii'e between that 



76 

body and the councils settled, and guessing 
what would be the issue of it, the General 
felt that he would lose himself by his silence, 
without saving Pichegru, and being particu- 
larly pressed by his chef d*etat Major, who 
announced to him that if he persisted in his 
silence, he should be obliged to reveal every 
thing, he wrote that letter with which he has 
never been reproached, unless because the 
imperious necessity to which he had yielded? 
was unknown. He did not write it to the 
Directors collectively, but made a kind of 
confidential communication of it, abandoned 
to the discretion Qf Barthelemy,_whom he was 
far from expecting to see proscribed along 
with Pichegru.' The latter, after his return 
from Cayenne, never shewed any sort of re- 
sentment at it ; very far from participating 
in the prejudices of the multitude in this res- 
pect, he was heard to declare several times, 
that it was from Moreau himself that he 
wished to know the circumstances which had 
forced him to this proceeding, and until- 



77 

then he would suspend his judgment on the 
conduct of a former companion in arms. 

The Directors were not mistaken as to this 
tardy declaration of Moreau, and they very 
soon placed him under the necessity of ask- 
ing leave to retire. Yet the want which was 
felt for his talents soon re-established him in 
the army, without however putting a stop to 
his disgrace; and in September, 1798, after 
being named Inspector General, he was call- 
ed to preside over a Military Board, charged 
by the Directory to prepare plans of cam- 
paigns. It does not appear that this state of 
inaction suited his character ; for, on the very 
opening of the campaign in Italy, he was 
i^een to repair, as a volunteer, to the army of 
Scherer, where he was an eye-witness to the 
defeats experienced by that General near 
Verona. AD length the latter, no longer 
knowing how either to command or fight, 
referred to Moreau the care of saving the 
army, which he executed by the most skilful 
manoeuvres in the presence of forces much 
superior to iiis own. He had just been no- 
7* 



78 

minated Commander in Chief of the army 
of the Rhine, ■ when Joubert came to take 
that of the army of Ifaly. This young Gen- 
eral, on the point of giving battle, wished to 
defer the direction of it to Moreau, who re- 
fused it, and only asked to fight under his 
orders. In fact, he fought in person at the 
battle of Novi, where Joubert was killed, 
and he himself incurred the greatest dangers, 
having had three horses" killed under him, 
and received a ball in his clothes, which 
grazed his shoulder. He then operated his 
retreat with so much superiority, that he al- 
most nullified to the allies the fruit of their 
victory. 

It w^as after this last manc^uvre that he 
€juitted the army of Italy, and terminated a 
campaign, in which he displayed, according 
to the avowal of all military men, a genius 
which placed him on a level with the great- 
est captuins. It is impossible not to admire 
the art with which, at the head of the re- 
mains of a conquered army, he disputed 
some leagues of territory which Europe be- 



79 

iieved were never to cost more than a few 
marches to the victorious armies of the allies? 
especiall\^ when we reflect that he was con- 
tending against the great Suvarow. 

Before going to take command of the ar- 
my of the Rhine, Moreau went to Paris; he 
arrived there at the moment when the exist- 
ence of the Directory was tottering under 
the weight of its own faults, under that also 
of the hatred of France, and the contempt 
of all parties. The men who in their coun» 
cils had formed the project of overthrowing 
him, believed that there was only one milita- 
ry man of great reputation v^ho could restore 
consideration and respect to the Government 
of France, and eclat to her arms ; they in 
consequence proposed to General Moreau to 
take charge of the destinies of a country, il- 
lustrious by his exploits^ and of late solely 
preserved from invasion by his firmness, his 
presence of mind, and his talents. Moreau, 
not believing himself in a condition to directj 
amidst the contest of the reanimated parties? 
the affairs of his country, refused. This fatal 



80 

distrust of himself, which he has since bitter- 
ly regretted, has put off for many years the 
repose of France. ,^ 

Bonaparte, who arrived during these trans- 
actions, did not oppose the same scruples to 
the same proposals, and Moreau, ever mo- 
dest, ever ready to sacrifice his pretensions to 
what he thought was to operate for the good 
of his country, consented to serve under the 
orders of Bonaparte, and to aid him with his 
influence and his means in the revolution 
which was preparing. Some days after the 
18th Brumaire, he saw that he had been mis- 
taken, and feared that he had concurred in 
giving a tyrant to his country. Being soon 
appointed to the command of the army of the 
Danube and of the Rhine, he went to put 
the seal on his great military reputation by a 
new campaign. Those who have observed 
him in the different affairs by which it open- 
ed, say that he then carried his contempt of 
life too far, and on seeing him expose him- 
self with the temerity of a soldier, his com- 
rades thought he was seeking to terminate in 



81 

battle a life, thenceforth poisoned by a pre- 
sentiment of the eYils which Bonaparte was 
preparing for France, At the battle of Moes- 
kirch he exposed his person like a grenadier, 
had four horses killed under him, and re= 
ceived a spent ball in his chest. A very re- 
markable circumstance in this campaign, it 
is, that at the moment when Moreau was en» 
tering Biberach, Pichegru, then a proscribed 
man, and a refugee in Gerniany, was fleeing 
from this town when the rapid march of his 
early friend had failed in overtaking him. 
Strange vicissitude of a revolution, which 
thus presented a General fleeing before his 
pupil in the art of war, and Pichegru afraid 
to fall into the hands of French soldiers 1 

Under a regular government, Pichegru 
would have confided in his friend : but, un- 
der the influence of the Directorial Oligarchy, 
he would not, in delivering himself into Mo- 
re^au's hands, have occasioned any thing but 
the proscription of them both ; this was 
what hindered him from making an appeal to 
a soul, whose candor and loyalty were well 
known to him. 



82 

At length, after an uninterrupted series of 
victories, Moreau gained the memorable bat- 
tle of Hohenlinden, which terminated the 
campaign, and forced the Austrian cabinet 
to enter into a negociation for peace. The 
General returned to Paris, where he receiv- 
ed the testimonies of the public admira- 
tion. Bonaparte, in spite of the secret jeal- 
ously which was devouring his heart, 
could not avoid appearing to unite his suf- 
frage to that of all France, and said to Mo- 
reau, on placing in his hands a pair of mag- 
nificent pistols, " that he had wished to have 
had engraven on them all his victories, but 
there could not be found room enough for 
them." This forced, trivial, incomjjlete eu- 
logy, proves how far from sincere .was the 
admiration of a rising despot toward a Gene- 
ral Wii hi.dr in his eyes, the wrong of hav- 
ing a«.'quired more glory than hLmself, and 
loved the country which he was meditating 
to ruin and enslave. 

From that moment, Moreau thought solely 
of living in retirement ; and having united 



S3 

his lot to a young person* in whom were 
combined all the qualities of the mind with 
all the graces of beauty, brilliant talents and 
solid virtues, he settled on the estate of Gros- 
bois which he had bought of Barras. 

It was there that in the sweets of conjugal 
union, and in the midst of the foreigners, 
who arrived in crowds to testify to him their 
admiration, he endeavoured, not indeed to 
withdraw himself entirely, but to render less 
importunate the sinister forebodings which 
announced servitude and misery to France. 
He almost entirely gave up going to Paris, 
and entirely ceased visiting Bonaparte, blam« 
ing, with a frankness more laudable than 
prudent, all the acts hy which that man was 
forming a prelude of tyranny. All Paris 
then seized with avidity, some traits which 
had escaped him against the latter. 

A rather remarkable incident which hap- 
pened in the beginning of 1 802, must have 
Indicated to Moreau that he was watched by 
spies, and that the hatred of his ferociouf 

* Mademoiselle Hsfllot. 



84 

rival had been feeding on all that had escap- 
ed hira, and on his patriotic discontent. A 
certain Abbe David, known by a book pub- 
lished on the Operations of the Campaign 
in Holland, had conceived the idea of ap- 
proximating Pichegru and Moreau, foresee- 
ing that the union of those two great men 
might one day be useful to France. He found 
from the very first overture, that Moreau was 
delighted with the idea of placing himself in 
communication with his friend, his former 
brother in arms, and set out for London with 
a letter which expressed to Pichegru, that 
wish of a noble soul and a feeling heart. 
But the police followed the traces of the Ab- 
be David as far as Calais, and arrested him 
just as he was about to embark. He was 
taken to Paris, detained at the Police Ad- 
ministration Office, whither Bonaparte secret- 
ly repaired at each examination, to listen to 
the details of it, hid behind a screen, either 
because he feared his ow^n agents would not 
render him an account of it faithfully, or 
because, in his impatience to find pretexts 



B5 

for the perdition of Moreau, he could not 
wait for their report. The Abbe David went 
to expiate at the temple, the wrong of hav- 
ing wished to re-establish between two great 
men, that confidence and friendship which 
had once intimately united them. 

Pichegru, sure of what were the sent!- 
riients of his early friend, had directed Gen- 
eral Lajolais to him in 180S, in order to be- 
come acquainted with the projects which 
occupied him ; but Moreau having but little 
eSteiem for the latter, had confined himself to 
assurances of the entire interest he took in 
th^ fate of his friend, and of the desire which 
he had of soon seeing him again in France. 
Lajoiais fancied he could interpret this avowal 
as an invitation given to Pichegru to repair 
thither, in order to concur in the overthrow 
of the government of Bonaparte; and he 
catne to London to bring the positive assu- 
r^incie, that Moreau w^as ready to connect 
himself with any kind of project which 
should have that for its object ; and that 
he ardently desired the presence of Pi- 
8 



86 

chegm at Paris. He took good care not to 
say, that Moreau had testified to him so little 
confidence, that he refused to lend him fifty 
louis d'or for his journey. 

For several months General Georges was 
in Paris, to prepare the means of carrying off 
Bonaparte by main force, in one of his rides 
from Paris to St. Cloud. The plan he had 
concerted with Pichegru was just at its ma- 
turity ; and from day to day, advices were 
expected which were to determine the de- 
parture of the latter with two Princes of the 
house of Boutbon. But what Lajolais an- 
nounced of the intentions of General Mo- 
reau, appeared too important not to encour- 
age an attempt to profit by them immediate- 
ly ; and it was decided that, as this general 
earnestly desired the presence of Pichegris in 
Paris, the latter should set out directly to 
concert with him. Moreau in fact testified 
to his early friend how happy ha was to see 
him, but he was far from guessing the pro- 
ject which brought him, and still more so, 
Chat every thing was ready to realize it. 

Without disputing the necessity of the re- 



87 

establishment of the Bourbon family, Moreau 
still wished to prepare for it by gradations? 
%vhich should bring over his own party, in 
which he counted several republicans, to ap- 
prove and second it. Pichegru, who had 
concerted every thing with Georges, and 
who felt that any slowness of proceeding 
might occasion the loss of the latter, and of 
the people whom he had collected for the au^ 
dacious enterprize in contemplation, wished 
that Moreau should declare himself immed» 
lately, and unconditionally bind himself to 
the cause, of w^hich he secretly desired the 
success. At length Moreau, sacrifising big 
scruples to the security of his friend, and to 
his w^arm entreaties, had agreed that those 
who had prepared the plan should execute it ; 
and that in case of success, he should place 
himself in advance with his party^ to protect 
them against the measures which the parti- 
zans of Bonaparte might take at the first 
1 - >ment to avenge him. He decided too 
palice, enlightened by what Gue- 
i.,^ ,-7--.;erL IcBsw of the presence of Pi- 
cnegvu and Georges at Fans, and of their 



B,8 

connexion with Moreau ; the latter w^s first 
arrested. 

All Europe knows the details of this dis- 
astrous affair; but what are less known, are 
the persecutions in detail which Bonaparte 
employed to wound Moreau in the dearest 
affeciions, and the marks of respect and at- 
tachment which the latter received from all 
the military men during the proceedings. 

The order had been given by the agentii 
of Bonaparte, not to let Madame Moreau 
communicate with her consort, until after 
having made him experience all the vexa- 
tions of a restless inspection, and suspense 
Ihe most painful. When this interesting wo- 
man presented herself at the Temple with her 
young infant, they forced her to wait in the 
open air, in the midst of a cold and rainy 
season until the moment when it was con- 
veijient for the jailor to open the gates. 
Sometimes she passed whole hours expose^ 
to the inclemency of the weather, unless 
when she owed to the pity of the sentinels, 
the permission of seeding shelter under 
a shed. This sad epoch did not, how- 



89 

.ever, glide away without affording to the 
General some enjoyments, which, in part, 
compensated the sufferings thus iniiicted on 
his heart. Although Moreau was a prisoner, 
and although they took him before judges, 
who, it was believed, were devoted to the 
tyranny which was to crush him ; he receiv- 
ed military honours every time he passed be- 
fore the soldiers charged with guarding the 
outside of that tribunal ; and he had the plea- 
sure of seeing a crowd of Generals, who as« 
sisted at the debates, put their hands on their 
sabres, and say to him, every time he was 
within hearing, " Comrade, fear nothing, we 
have sworn on our swords to defend thy 
life." Bonaparte thirsted for the blood of 
Moreau, but the public opinion disputed 
against him this illustrious victim ; and he 
confined himself to banishing him. The de- 
tails which precede this memoir, have suffi- 
ciently instructed the reader concerning the 
last and fatal episode of the life of this gi'eat 
man. ' 

We cannot terminate this notice better 
8* 



90 

than by publishing on the brilliant career 
which the General had made in the eyes of 
Europe, some reflectiolis which have been in- 
spired by a deeply-felt admiration of the tal- 
ents and virtues of that great man. 

" It was on the approach of those frightful 
misfortunes, which were directly menacing 
France, that there appeared, all at once, in 
the ranks of the allies, enemies of Bonaparte 
and not of the French, a General who had 
been for eight years exiled from the country 
which he had served with as much glory as 
.fidelity. 

'' A victim of jealousy, which his eminent 
services had excited in a heart hostile to all 
the glories which have preceded that to 
Yv'hich it aspires, and of the virtues which it 
has never possessed; this great man had even 
suffered himself to be forgotten as long as he 
saw some security for France in the triumphs 
of her actual chief; but after the horrible ca- 
tastrophe of Russia, v^hat should this distin- 
guished Patriot, this General do, who, in 
other times, sacrificed his self-love and his 
resentments, in order to save a French army ? 



91 

Was he to content himself with mourning in 
silence over the misfortunes of his country, 
and over the deplorable end of so many 
brave men ? Was he to see tranquilly to 
fall into shreds, that fair France, the object 
of his v^ishes and his regrets ? And was he 
to shut himself out forever from the prospect 
of one day seeing her again, under the in- 
fluence of a reparative and tutelary govern^ 
ment ? No ! his inaction, in so menacing a 
crisis, would have been treason, and he has 
never shewn himself greater, than when, 
braving the prejudices of weak minds, the 
calumnies of his persecutor, and the decla- 
mations of the French Journalists, he came 
to offer on the one hand, to the allied pow- 
ers his co-operation against the tyrant of 
France, and on the other hand, to the French 
a guorantee that it is not on them but on the 
ambition of their chief, that the Sovereigns 
of Europe are making war. 

" The love which the great man had al- 
ways borne towards his country, that ambi- 
tion which he had constantly she v/n to serve 
it and not to subjugate it ; his conduct? 



equally wise and heroic, in the midst of the 
disgraces he had endured, the one under the 
Directory, the other under Bonaparte, all 
served to prove that he was directed by the 
noblest and purest of motives in the briilant 
proceedings which has honored the end of 
bis life. He sought not rank or riches ; he 
was not willing to dispute with the despot 
his authority in order to become a despot in 
his turn; the entire whole of his life proves, 
that his tastes were simple, his desires mode- 
rate ; and his modesty always refused the 
rank, which opinion assigned him among 
great men and great captains. He could 
have placed himself at tlje head of the Gov- 
ernment of his country, but he feared the 
seductions of pov/er, the immense responsibi- 
lity of the supreme rank. He consulted his 
heart ; he felt not in it the courage to be se- 
vere : he consulted his strength ; he felt him- 
self not in condition to govern France. Bona- 
parte had not the same scruples, and his petu- 
lant ambition blindly seized on apart, in which 
it perceived only an unbounded authority to 
exercise, and immense riches to acquire." 



FUNERAL ORATION 



©N « 



FUNERAL ORATION 



PRONOUNCED 



AT ST. PETERSBURG, 



IN HONOR OF 



MOBEAU. 



MY A rRIEJiTD OE GENERAL MOREAW, 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FREIJCK. 



BOSTON : 

PRINTED BY ROWE AND HOOPER. 

1814, 



I 



FM,EFACE OF THE EDITOK, 



1 HAVE just received the Funeral Oration 
pronounced in honor of that great man whose 
loss I so feelingly deplore. A desire to pub- 
lish without delay this outline of a life, around 
which all earthly glories hwve^ indeed^ shed a 
lustre ; to unveil as it were, an heroic action, 
concerning which no person should have been 
deceived, (for ought it ever to have been sup- 
posed, that General Moreau could entertain 
the thought of delivering up his country to 
its foes ?) induces me to write this hasty pre- 
face, which, however, will not, I trust, im- 
perfect as it is, be without interest in the 
sight of any virtuous Frenchman, or any 
friend of man. 

At another time I might, perhaps, have 
ventured to attempt the portrait of an illus- 
trious man, who honored me with his confi- 
dence and friendship, who condescended to 
9 



98 

make me not only the depository of his noble 
designs, his generous sentiments and views, 
but the channel through which they were 
communicated to my king ; — under presenS 
circumstances, however, I have scarcely time 
for the most imperfect sketch — I am on the 
eve of a long voyage, and have not a mind 
sufficiently composed to undertake ^ task 
that would justly engage my undivided at- 
tention. My whole soul is at this time ab- 
sorbed by the great events that now agitate 
my country ; I see France at length restored 
to freedom, guilt humbled in the dust ; my 
lawful king again seated upon the throne of 
his ancestors ; my countrymen happy, unit- 
ed, after so long a period of misery and dis- 
sention ; and the thoughts that crowd upon 
me excite in me, I confess, that agitation, 
that fever of the soul, which all my compa- 
triots, who sincerely wish the happiness and 
glory of their country, must experience upon 
so awful an occasion. 

Frenchmen, General Moreau has not only 
sacrificed his life for you, but to save you, 



has consented to expose himself to the at- 
tacks of cahimny and injustice. 

Frenchmen, listen to those words of that 
great man, and reflect. — «» We should do 
nothing for the multitude, but every thing 
for our country and posterity ; there are 
cases in which our conscience should be our 
only guide; if I remain a mere spectator 
during the great crisis that now convulses 
Europe, with what face shall I present my- 
self to save our wretched France, when the 
torrent is ready to burst upon and over- 
whelm her ?" 

«« And that event," said he, (and it is now 
more than eighteen months since) " that 
event will happen. The tyrant will finally 
have sacrificed to his base and cruel ambi- 
tion the bravest of our countrymen ; he will 
have none remaining to defend France, but 
boys, or men weary of the yoke that oppres- 
ses them. The ardour, the enfhusia$7n are on 
the other side. I will go then, and join the 
defenders of mankind, and if I can aid them 
In saving Germany, they will assist me af- 



iOQ 

terwards, to deliver France," — *« Yes," said 
he, *'I will rally about me the virtuous French 
my brave companions in arms ; they will be» 
lieve me when I declare to them, I served 
with fidelity the republican government, and 
so long as it subsisted, neither abandoned nor 
betrayed it; but since monarchy alone is 
suited to France, I will loyally contend for 
the only monarchy that an honest man can 
wish for or defend. 

"Tell his Majesty Louis the XVIIIth," 
said he to me one day, with a smile, " that 
you know a good republican, who will hence- 
forth serve his cause more faithfully than 
many of those, who styled themselves roy- 
alists in former times." And on another oc- 
casion, he answered me with the frankness 
that distinguished him. — * Yes, the cause of 
the lawful sovereign is now the only national 
cause, the king of France may, therefore^ 
count with certainty upon me. I have no 
personal ambition ; I wish for nothing but 
the happiness of France, and the glory of my 
former companions in arms, from whom I 



101 

will never separate my fortunes, and who, 
I do not doubt, will hasten to unite with me 
in dethroning the usurper." 

Frenchmen, the generous devotion of Gen- 
eral Moreau, his noble sentiments, were long 
since known to the august monarch who is 
about to put a period to your calamities. — 
O you, who, too distant from your country, 
cannot share in its deliverance, let the voice 
of your indignation, at least, be heard be- 
yond the seas ; but call down on the ty- 
rant only the wrath of heaven ; let there be 
an end of all animosity — no more resentment 
of injuries ; our gracious king and father has 
enjoined us to forget all errors, all wrongs, 
all trials that are past. 

Frenchmen of all parties, let us be at length 
united ; we have been all of us, yes all, in a 
greater or less degree, transported by the de- 
lirium : who, then, will have a right to be 
severe ? Who among us has not been driven 
by the tempest, somewhat beyond the bounds 
of prudence and of reason ? 

Frenchmen, once again, No tyrant^ hut 
9* 



102 

no thought of vengeance either^— the indul- 
gent kindness of the sons of Henry IVth 
dictates most forcibly our duty. 

O my countrymen, I am without impor- 
tance in the world, but have, perhaps, ac- 
quired a right to speak to you of harmony 
and union. I am (I may with truth assert) 
one of the veterans of the persecuted cause. 
For twenty years have I lived in the midst of 
storms. I count six years proscription, eight 
years of exile, but on these grounds make 
neither complaint nor boast. For fortune, 
after all, has not had it in her power to pre- 
vent my being happy. But I wish, at least, 
that my example may be of use to those who 
shall feel disposed to revive the memory of 
their trials, but who should bear in mind thai; 
complaint makes grief lose all its dignity ; 
and that no one has a right to hate, when 
Louis XVIth even from his scaffold, pardon* 
ed all his enemies. 

Frenchmen, your King, our august mon- 
arch, will soon confirm to you what I have 
now said — Soon will you 3bed tears in Paris^ 



103 

over the tomb of the great man, the mart/f 
to his country. 

Frenchmen among whom I have lived in 
this happy and hospitable land, you will not 
consider mine the voice of flattery j for seven 
years I have not ceased to tell you of the 
virtues of our princes — their good deeds will 
soon convince you that my language has been 
that of truth. 

And you my young compatriots, born 
since the revolution, you who may have been 
so easily seduced by the false lustre of bril- 
liant errors, by the illusion that has too long 
surrounded the tyrant's throne, return to just- 
er sentiments, to such as formerly ensured 
the tranquillity and happiness of your sires, 
and if the contest is to last, hasten from every 
quarter of the earth, to wage war on despot- 
ism, and ensure the triumph of the common 
cause of mankind.* Imitate, my young 

* I was to have left this country, together with Gen^ 
eral Moreau, but political eoiisiderations of the high- 
est importance induced us to thiak at the moment of 

his departure, that it would be more expedient to de- 



104 

Aieiids, the example of the great captain, 

whom I now call to your remembrance ; in 

future, take up arms in no other cause but 

that of honour, of your country, and your 

king. 

G. H. NEUVILLE. 

lay mine for some months. Since then, the news of 
the armistice, the death of that great man, and other 
events not within my control, have detained me on 
these shores. 1 have rendered an account to my sove- 
reign, who has deigned to approve my conduct. At 
gome future time I shall give other details, but at pre- 
sent add this note merely by way of answering those, 
who may possibly ask, why my own departure has been 
deferred till now. 



FUNERAL OEATION 



ON 



MOEEAU. 

1 HE first effect of any great catastrophe is 
to diffuse around a secret awe, a speechless 
amazement, that deadens all the faculties, 
that overwhelms the firmest and most vigo- 
rous minds. To this recoil of the heart, this 
deep dismay, this consternation, presently 
succeeds a more manly and considerate grief. 
Man then uplifts his eyes towards heaven, 
and seeks to discover there some of those 
signs that manifest its will ; he endeavours 
to connect again that chain of events which 
the thunder has just rent ; he would fain ex- 
plore the depths of that power before which 
he sinks, of that wisdom which confounds 



106 

him, and if, dissolved in tears, he appeals to 
the throne of eternal justice, it is to seek an 
explanation of these barren tears, these with- 
ered hopes, this ephemeral existence, even, 
from whose burthen he would be relieved- 

But when on the wings of meditation he 
is raised above this world of grief and sor- 
row, when he contemplares in all its beauty 
the moral government and order of creation, 
he is struck with admiration at recognizing 
in the strangest combinations of events, one 
hand by which they are all directed, that 
hand which traced the writing on the wall, 
and in which are balanced the destinies of 
nations and of kings. — His mind then gra- 
dually recovers its composure, he accustoms 
himself to consider without shuddering, the 
tragical events that overpowered him before ; 
his tears have lost their bitterness, and his 
regrets are full of resignation. — A friendly 
ray directs him, the darkness is dispelled, 
and he reads in heaven the consummation of 
events begun on earth. 

It is not to renew a fruitless sorrow, that I 



107 

come to render homage to the memory of the 
celebrated chief, who singly bore the weight 
of so many hopes. — Nothing has been want- 
ing to his life ; his glor}^ has been pure jind 
perfect ; 1 wish, however, to unfold to view 
those hidden and terrible relations between 
the misfortunes of a people and its crimes, 
between the pride and the insignificance of 
human wisdom ; I wish to infuse into every 
heart, those heavenly consolations that lift 
man above his human nature ; I wish to say 
to the friends of Moreau, " Weep not, but; 
" for his murderers and his country." 

Let us leave then to vulgar minds, the 
words fate, chance, destiny ; those empty 
sounds that serve as cloaks to poverty of spirit 
or confusion of ideas. Let us consider with 
a more steady view this great calamity, and 
trace higher the wonderful series of a life, 
around which all earthly glories have, by 
turns, shed their lustre. 

John Victor Moreau, before entering the 
career of arms, pursued for a considerable 
time, the peaceful vocation of the bar ; the 



lOS 

troubles of his country roused all at once his 
dormant genius ; and that memorable period 
saw MoREAu rapidly elevated to the chief com- 
mand of the armies of France. It is reserv- 
ed to France, it is for history, to perpetuate 
the memory of that profound sagacity, that 
collected valour of a spirit born for command, 
that consummate prudence, those unnumb- 
ered combats, those retreats more to be ad- 
mired than any victories. 

The friend of humanity will regret, per- 
haps, that so many great qualities were at 
first exerted in contributing to the triumph of 
a cause, from which all the disasters of the 
world have flowed ; but while he deplores the 
violence and disorders of that period, when 
a frantic spirit had seized the minds of men, 
he will, notwithstanding, pay a just tribute 
to the virtues of Moreau. What other chief, 
in fact, introduced into the camp that simpli- 
city of former times, that so engaging mod- 
esty, that rare integrity, which, during times 
of license, shines with so bright a lustre ? Ask 
of his comrades in arms, inquire of the coun- 



109 

fries he traversed as a conqueroi*, and you 
will hear the voice of admiration and grati- 
tude ascend on every side. Interrogate that 
army against which he contended when he 
fell, that army which was not his country, 
and it will reply " Moreau was the glory of 
** the French arms, the soldier's father, the 
** pride and the secret hope of France." 

The profession of arms, which does but 
too often steel the heart, liad rendered that of 
Moreau susceptible of every kind and gener- 
ous emotion Never was he seen to yield to 
the rash and ungoverned impulses of an am- 
bition which he himself stiled silly and in- 
human, Vv ar he regarded only as a destruc- 
tive scourge ; and the evening after the bat- 
tle of Hohenlinden was heard to use these 
remarkable words -, " We have shed blood 
" enough, letug^think now of making peace." 

The history of the exploits of General 
Moreau is, 1 repeat it, too intimately connect- 
ed with that of the military triumphs of 
France, not to be treated at some future day 
with the extension it requires, and an admi- 
10 



110 

ration that tyranny will no longer be able to 
repress. I vTill confine myself at present to 
a rapid sketch of that first period in the his- 
tory of MoREAu, a period so well known, 
and that so well deserves to be. 
* The Netherlands were the first theatre of 
bis glory ; it was under his auspices that the 
French armies entered Menin, Ypres, Ostend 
and Nieuport. A frantic and barbarous law 
had decreed the death of all subjects of Great 
Britain ; Moreau, however, spared the gar- 
rison of Nieuport, composed of Hanoverians, 
and this first act of courage and humanity 
had cost him his life, if the committee of pub- 
lic safety had not, in the mean time, been sup- 
planted by another faction. But tyranny sur- 
vived the tyrants, and on the very day when 
MoREAu, guided by his own daring spirit and 
the bravery of his soldiers, thre,w himself into 
the Isle of Cadsand under the cannon of 
L'Scluse, his father died upon thescaflfold. 

Moreau, in his despair, would have fled 
his country. His friends withheld him. Thus, 
a devoted victim to misfortune, did he con- 



ill 

tend in vain against a destiny, every vicisi» 
tnde of which he wsls doomed to prove. 

In his first campaign upon the Rhine, Mo- 
REAu effected several passages of that river 
with the intrepidity of a soldier and the skill 
of a great commander. From this time for- 
ward we perceive in all his operations that 
scientific promptitude, that admirable accura- 
cy, he had derived from a profound study of 
his art. From this time forward we see him 
displaying qualities that seem the most in« 
compatible— prudent and enterprizing bold- 
ness, vigour and moderation, thirst for glory, 
and humanity. Having passed the Rhine, he 
marched from victory to victory ; but the 
armies by which he should have been sup- 
ported were defeated, and Moreau, obliged 
to depend solely upon his proper strength, 
found himself pressed on every side by an 
enemy superior in numbers, and formidable 
from his valour. Then was it the modern 
Xenophon effected that celebrated retreat 
over the Black mountains to the borders of 
the Rhine. Here did he successively display 



112 

every resourse of military genius. Enclos- 
ed in narrow deiiles, whence no easy exit 
could be found, he extricated himself with 
consummate dexterity and courage, victori- 
ous, and surmounting every obstacle. And 
thus, by the skilful combinations of its chief, 
was an army saved that seemed reduced to 
the necessity of an entire surrender; thus 
was accomplished that famed retreat which 
all Europe' regards as classical, and to which 
the enemies of France still pay the tribute of 
admiration. 

The battle of Schliengen and the siege of 
the fortress of Kehl, terminated a campaign 
which placed Moreau in the first rank of the 
generals of the age. The second campaign 
opened with a passage of the Rhine, more 
daring than any of which history has pre- 
served the. memory. Moreau w^as about to 
gather fresh laurels, when the preliminaries 
signed at Leoben, suspended his victorious 
career. 

After two so brilliant campaigns, Moreau 
was recalled by the Directory, and lost to 



lis 

his army. The 18th Fructidor had complete 
ed the disorder of a government remarkable 
for its weakness and corruption ; and if the 
severe justice of posterity shall one day feel 
regret at seeing the name of Moreau con- 
nected with these times of mourning and 
confusion, it will not forget that he was borne 
along by events which his great soul did noe 
sufficiently distrust, and by a generosity of 
which his enemies were incapable ; and the 
only page it will desire to see blotted from 
his history, casts no stain either upon his 
glory or his virtue. 

The esteem of all parties had followed Mo- 
reau into his retirement. But the situation 
of affairs in Italy soon compelled the Direc- 
tory to place him once more at the head of 
armies. The voice of the public marked him 
out as the only one capable of arresting the 
triumphant course of the immortal Souworoff, 
and the Austro-Russian arms. Moreau was 
invested after Scherer, with the chief com- 
mand of the army of Italy. But with all his 
efforts, all his skill, he was unable to resume 
10* 



114 

the offensive, and during the short interval 
of time between the removal of Scherer and 
the nomination of Joubert, Moreau executed 
those scientific retreats which saved a part of 
the French troops, or to speak more properly, 
delayed their loss; retreats which Moreau 
himself preferred to that of the Black Forest 
as vi^ell on account of the difficulty of his po- 
sition, as of the disorderly state and despon- 
dency of his army. 

Souworoff won the battle of Novi, in which 
Joubert was killed. The general officers, 
with one consent, yielded the command to 
Moreau, who had been a mere spectator, and 
to whom the remains of that army once more 
owed their preservation. 

France, meantime, saw rapidly approach- 
ing the total subversion of the existing gov- 
ernment. 1 he Directory had long stood upon 
the brink of its ruin. Moreau, high in the 
affections of every party, exalted in glory, 
and in virtue, disdained the power that was 
offered to his acceptance, (1) His refusal 
caused it to pass into other hands, and the 
events of the 18th Brumaire took place. 



115 

Who can look back upon the occurrences 
of that period, without some feeling of re- 
gret ?-~What misfortunes had been spared 
mankind ; how many tears, how much blood? 
that would not have flowed, if Moreau had 
been more ambitious, had accepted the chief 
magistracy of his country ? Whatever use 
he might have made of it, he would, no doubt, 
have granted every thing to the wishes and 
necessities of France ; and the restoration of 
peace to the world would have been the first 
pledge of his intentions, the first exercise of 
his power. 

MoREAu, though he refused to govern, was 
ever ready to serve his country. In that 
admirable discourse pronounced before his 
judges, and which the French heard without 
throwing themselves at his feet, he used these 
remarkable words.—'*! thought myself form- 
" ed for the command of armies : and had 
«' no ambition to command the state."* 

* Speecli of Moreau before his jodgegy tlie lOtfe 
Prairial, year XII. (1804..) 



ii6 

Appointed commander in chief of the ar- 
my of the Rhine, he made two celebrated 
campaigns, which raised to the highest pitch 
his mihtary reputation. The first was sig- 
nalized by a succession of victories, by the 
passage of the Rhine at Reichlingen, by the 
passage of the Danube below Ulm, and by 
an armistice that seemed the precursor of a 
peace. — This armistice having been broken, 
the second campaign was opened with the 
victory of Hohenlinden, and the consequent 
passage of the Inn. A convention signed at 
Steyer terminated the exploits of Moreau, 
and served as a prelude to the treaty of Lu- 
neville. 

Here ends the recital of A-loreau's cam- 
paigns. These his warlike achievements be- 
long to France and when the voice of pas- 
sion shall be hushed, and a more tranquil day 
shall shine npon that wretched country, then 
will its inhabitants join with one accord in 
tea^-s of regret, and accents of praise around 
his solitary tomb, then, perhaps, will they 
claim the insensible remains of a hero who 



lit 

might have burst their fetters, and restored 
to them, together with their ancient glorys 
their now fading manners their arts and 
laws which will soon be known to them only 
from tradition, and by their ruins. 

General Moreau had long and deeply me- 
ditated his profession. His military taleng 
was characterized by calmness and delibara- 
tion, and the same qualities gave the stamp 
to his whole life. In him were happily com- 
bined qualifications which nature has gene- 
rally distributed among several chiefs. Ca- 
pable alike of profound thought and of sud- 
den illumination^ he, like Turenne, ad-vanced 
with unerring method toward the wonders of 
his life^ and like the hero of Rocroy, seem- 
ed a man inspired from his first battle.^ 

This uncommon union, this versatility of 
his military genius seemed derived from the 
general character of his mind, which was 
susceptible of every enthusiastic and ardent; 
impulse; but could regulate them all by 

* Bossuet, 



118 

that inexhaustible goodness, and elevation of 
soul, which marked every action of his life. 

An assiduous study of the art of war had 
expanded in Moreau the happy germes im- 
planted in him by nature ; he had perfected 
that coup d'oeiU which she bestows on great 
commanders, by extensive research and pro- 
found reflection, without which a great cap- 
tain is but a fortunate adventurer. (2) 

Cautious and yet daring, passing from a 
brilliant enterprise to a skilful retreat, gentle 
and severe in camp, composed and animated 
In the field of battle, but at all times perfect 
master of himself, Moreau left nothing to 
chance, but calculated the least movements 
with a sagacity and precision which he may 
be said to have reduced to rule. Sparing 
of men and blood, he had a right to assert, 
^* War under my direction was a scourge 
only in the field of battle.* 

The solidity of his judgment caused him 
to take great pleasure in the study of histo- 
iy. He formed his opinions of celebrated 

* Speech of Morean. 



119 

commanders, according to the rules by 
which he expected to foe one day judged 
himself. (3) Early accustomed to the study 
of mankind, he was inclined to regard pub= 
lie opinion and the tradition of history as a 
tribunal almost invariably just, but singular- 
ly severe toward military reputations.* Far 
from agreeing in opinion with those who 
ascribe to the latter years of the eighteenth 
century the invention of a new system of 
tactics, he often observed, that since the 
thirty years* war, the art of war had made 
constant advances toward perfection.* 

Another quality conspicuous in Moreau, 
was the facility with which he could ex- 
change the tumult of the camp for the peace- 
ful occupations of a private station ; a pecu- 
liar temper of his mind, that enabled him to 
pass with perfect equanimity from the com- 
mand of armies, to the quiet of the civil life, 
a quiet, which^ as he nobly observed, was 
not without glory, ^ After the treaty of Lu- 
neville, he again sought retirement, and was 

* MS, t Speech of Moreau. 



120 

only drawn from his refreat by an event the 
most unexpected, and a seiitence of proscrip- 
tion which will to all posterity bear witness 
against France. 

Having now reached that gloomy era in 
the history of MoRRAu, when betrayed and 
persecuted, he submitted to the exile of Aris- 
tidesj as he would have received the bowl of 
Socrates, I will present, in few words, a slight 
but faithful sketch of the circumstances at- 
tending his condemnation. 

MoREAu had been the friend and brother 
soldier of Piche jru and had succeeded him 
in the chief command. Previous to the 18th 
Fructidor, there chanced to fall into his 
hands certain letters which discovered the 
existence of a numerous part^, whose object 
was to effect a counter-revolution in France. 
Pichegru was implicated in this plot, but no 
legal proof appeared against him. The gen- 
erous spirit of MoREAu revolted at the thoughe 
of becoming the accuser of his ancient chief. 
A year had now elapsed since the time fixed 
upon for the execution of this plan, and the 



121 

army which Pichegru, it was said, had agreed 
to deliver up, had won niaoy battles under 
IvIoKEAu's command. Such w^as the state of 
things when Moreau, informed of the pub- 
licity which this affair had gained, on the 
day succeeding the memorable 18th Fructi- 
dor, addressed to the director Barthelemy, 
who was himself proscribed together with 
Pichegru, a confidential letter, which, in 
consequence of the previous arrest of that 
director, was opened by his colleagues, and 
MoREAu received orders to transmit the pa- 
pers and to publish in his army a proclama- 
tion conformable to the course which the 
affair had taken. (4) 

This transaction, which was not entirely 
cleared up until the trial of Moreau, at first 
roused all France against him. He was ac- 
cused of having denounced his former gene- 
ral, and of having denounced him in order to 
shield himself from the vengeance of the 
government. Moreau replied to these 
charges only by new victories. But when 
Pichegru afterwards, in 18G4, returned pri- 
ll 



122 

vately into France, accompanied by Geor- 
ges, and they were both arrested, the memo- 
ry of the relations that had formerly subsist- 
ed between Pichegru and Moreau, was stu- 
diousl}^ revived. To remove Pichegru out 
of the way, who was a skilful general, of a 
vigorous mind, and a temper bold and enter- 
prising, was an object of importance. It was 
no less important to be rid of Georges, a man 
whom great force of mind and body, and 
wonderful address, fitted for the execution 
of the vast designs he entertained. But the 
master-stroke of policy would be to involve 
MoREAu in their proscription, to lower him 
in the eyes of the army, of which he was the 
idol, and to conduct to ignominious death 
upon a scaffold, the only man capable of 
giving umbrage to the consular tyranny. It 
was contrived, with perfidious art, to con- 
nect the former intimacy between Pichegru 
and Moreau, with two interviews and with 
certain conversations the latter was now ac- 
cused of having held. 

It being declared incompetent to a jury to 



123, 

proceeed in this affair, it was laid before a 
special tribunal, and the name of the con- 
queror of Hohenlinden was inscribed in the 
list of robbers and conspirators. 

The violent death of Pichegru caused the 
whole interest of this spectacle to centre in 
MoREAu. It was now imputed to him as a 
crime, that he did not denounce Pichegru, 
as he was before reproached with having de- 
nounced him. He was accused of having 
intended by means of the royalists, to make 
himself dictator ; the depositions of certain 
subordinate agents, vague and inadmissible 
depositions, were triumphantly disproved in 
the argument of his advocate. The secret 
pains of government to convert them into 
heads of accusation could not escape notice ; 
its hopes, however, were disappointed, and 
it was obliged to respect Moreau. The 
speech pronounced by him before his judges, 
breathes a noble elevation. The enthusiasm 
which it inspired, the recollections it awoke 
were such, that a word from Moreau would 
Jiave sufficed to overturn the government, and 



124 

have given a new aspect to the aflairs of Eu« 
rope ; but uMoreau remained silent, and in 
calm dignity submitted to the decree which 
sentenced him to an imprisonment of two 
years, a sentence which was afterwards 
changed into one of perpetual banishment ; 
and MoREAu passing through Spain embark- 
ed with his family for the United States. 

This narrative may be regarded as strictly 
accurate, and as the result of the best ground- 
ed and most moderate opinions. 

MoREAu has been reproached with hasty 
and inconsiderate denials, made by him in 
the course of this proceeding, with an unde- 
cided conduct at its commencement, and too 
great a respect for an illegal and oppressive 
prosecution. A letter, addressed by him to 
the First Consul, is made the ground of ano- 
ther charge; but a most disingenuous one, 
for that letter, as contained among the pa- 
pers on which his defence was grounded, is 
dignified and calm. 

Lastly, he is reproached with having suf- 
fered persecution without shewing the least 



125 

desire for revenge, without making any effor!; 
to rouse the army, and place himself at the 
head of government; but this conduct was, 
in fact, perfectly conformable to the charac- 
ter, the principles, and the whole tenor of 
the life of one, great in the arts of peace and 
war; but unfit for faction, abhorring civil 
discord, and so little ambitious of the su- 
preme power, that without regret, and al- 
most wirh joy, he had seen it consigned to 
other hands. 

If we take a more enlarged view of the 
singular circumstances attending the exile 
of Moreau, w© may observe, on one side, 
the ingratitude of man ; forgetful of past 
benefits, and jealous of another^s glory ; on 
I he other we may discern the protecting hand 
of Providence, interposed to save this hero 
from so njany united dangers, withdrawing 
him from the theatre of his exploits, and 
transporting him suddenly to Ihe forests of 
the new world. We now see this illustrious 
man lost in obscurity, disappearing from 
view^ and retired within himself, long re- 



1 2a 

Vol vino- the occurrences of his past life ; then 
prompted by one of those thoughts which hea- 
1)671 sends^^ emerging from his solitude to a 
new Fife, re-appearing with extraordinary 
brightness upon the earthly scene, to shine 
there but for a moment, and to carry with 
him fo the tomb the hopes and the regrets 
of all mankind. Who does not exclaim, at 
a destiny so mysterious, ^'This is the fmgev 
of God /'t 

But before I portray in its mournful co- 
lours this tragical event, let me follow Mo- 
reau in his retirement; into the recesses, if 
I may say it, of his soul, as I have hitherto 
foliow^ed him at the head of victorious ar» 
mies. Now that the clamours of party spi- 
rit, and the voice of calumny are loud on 
every side ; now that Moreau has fallen 
before he had realized the vast expectations 
of the world, we must oppose the distinctive 
traits of his character, his entire life^ to ab- 
surd and groundless slanders. It is that ad- 
mirable union, found in him, af public tal- 

* BossuGl. t Exod, c. S, v« 19< 



m 

ents Willi private virtues, that should be dis- 
played to view. It is, in a word, the man 
himself, that I would paint; and, by a rare 
bounty of nature, Morcau, proscribed, dis- 
tant from his native land, stript of his (itles, 
his military renown, and the celebrity de- 
rived from his misfortunes, is still an object 
of interest and admiration, honorable and 
consolatory to human nature. 

MoREAu, having reached his new abode, 
in the bosom of a strange land, called to his 
aid his love of study, the cares and affection 
q{ his ftimily, and the taste he had always 
retained for pure and simple pleasures. An 
liumble retreat upon the banks of the Dela- 
ware received him as soon as the season 
would permit, {b) Here he derived pleasure 
from the cultivation of his garden, and did 
not disdain the amusements of fishing and 
the chace — Honored and beloved by his 
quiet and peaceful neighbors, he seemed to 
have laid aside his glory. The greater num- 
ber knev/ of the hero of Hohenlinden only 
by his domestic virtues, and they paid him a 



\n 

tribute of confidence and esteem, that made 
amends for the injustice of the world and 
the ingratitude of his country. His residence 
at his country seat inspired new life into its 
neighbourhood and gave fresh vigour to the 
industry of the inhabitants of Morrisville and 
its environs. While he was engaged in study, 
or the cultivation of his grounds, Madame 
Moreau devoted herself to the education of 
her daughter, in whom the anxious cares of 
her consort and herself were all centered. A 
small number of friends shared their retire- 
ment. Happy and peaceful occupations, 
soon to be succeeded by the most awful ca- 
tastrophe, and by eternal grief ! 

These details, valuable as they are, con- 
vey, I am sensible, but an imperfect idea of 
the long space of time spent in America by 
Moreau ; but it were vain to attempt to pe- 
netrate the shades with which he enveloped 
his retreat. — What various thout'hts must 
have assailed him, as the rumour of the dis- 
asters of Europe expired upon the western 
^shores of the Atlaotic ! What profound in-^ 



129 

dignatlon swelled his generous spirit, as he 
saw from a distance the yoke that oppressed 
his country ! What mental struggles had he 
not to sustain ! But what a sudden inspira- 
tion also, what generous courage, what ad- 
mirable and affecting self-devotion! The 
news of the invasion of Russia, in 1812, had 
reached the United States. The letters writ- 
ten at this period by Moreau, show with what 
attention he followed the operations of the 
war, (6) and the severe but correct judgment 
which he formed of an enterprize, conceived 
in rashness, conducted in the delirium of 
improvidence and hatred, and ending in dis- 
grace. It was at this time Moreau resolved 
to appear again upon the continent of Europe, 
and no doubt the astonishing events of this 
war powerfully inllueoced his determination. 
He saw that the propitious moment for sav- 
ing Europe, and destroying a scourge, which 
he declared was /he mo ■it dreadful euer Jcnown 
had at length arrived — and who, rather than 
P^ioreau, might believe himself called to this 
work of retribiUion ?--Other considerations 



130 

also, had a share In his decision. In the si- 
lence of his retirement Moreau had been 
taught by much reflection upon the af- 
fairs of life, that our country is not there, 
where neither virtue nor honour dwells ; that 
France, to be preserved, must be subdued ; 
that he should be for ever answerable to- 
ward her if he took no part in her delive- 
rance; (7) that it was now time, in fact, to 
rise superior to all personal regards, and con- 
sult the safety of Europe, and the cause of 
the world at large — a generous sentiment, 
which makes Moreau the object of the world's 
regrets, and gives a right to every European 
people to lament his loss, as though he had 
been born within its own bosom. 

While Moreau, absorbed in these reflec- 
tions, obeyed, as he thought, the impulse of 
his own mind, Providence, having at this 
very time resolved to take him from the ends 
of the earth, to call him from the chief men 
thereof^ smoothed every obstacle before him. 
JJe quirted his retirement and embarked. — 

* isaialuc. 41. v. 9. 



131 

Every thing seemed to conspire to facilitate 
his voyage. Propitious winds swelled the 
sails of the vessel that bore this man chosen, 
mnong many. The waves were silent before 
the victim charged with his country's crimes, 
and Moreau, on reaching the shores of Eu- 
rope, was greeted from afar with transports 
of joy and adanration, that were soon to be 
converted into cries of sorrow and despair. 

The arrival of General Moreau on the con- 
tinent was a triumph. — He appeared in the 
midst of the allied armies as a superior ge- 
nius, destined to conciliate the wishes and 
sanction the designs of Europe. Acclama- 
tions every where pursued his steps. — Those 
brave warriors rejoiced to behold among them 
one of the greatest commanders; and Mo- 
reau's heart opened to the fairest hopes when 
he witnessed the force and valour of the 
troops, the talents of the chiefs, their devo- 
tion to the cause, and that astonishing enthu- 
siasm, which, originating in the excess of 
suffering, had borne the nations to a height, 
where nothing is impossihle except disgrace. 



132 

But it was chiefly when Moreau, possessed 
of the confidence of the Sovereigns, had been 
adnntted to the counsels that directed those 
enoimoiis masses, that he foresaw the suc- 
cess which must crown the holiest of causes. 
When he saw on one hand, Europe leagued 
for the recovery of its freedom, and on the 
other, France striving to rivet its chains, he 
no longer doubted of the issue of this great 
contest. The victorious legions of the North, 
pursuing with the rapidity of lightning the 
ruins of an unnumbered host, whose bones 
yet whiten the vast plains of Russia, these 
legions, guided by a great chieftain too soon 
snatched from his country, indebted to him 
for its deliverance, had revived in Germany 
an expiring flame, that will now consume 
her enemies. All free governments had, 
under the care of a wise and valiant mon- 
arch, acceded to this grand alliance; and 
Moreau, in the midst of the confederate ar- 
mies, saw the most formidable union reign 
among so many various nations, surprised 
to find themselves leagued against a single 
power. 



13S 

Moreaii, appearing in the allied ranks 
with that perfect disinterestedness and in- 
tegrity which marked his character, might 
foe regarded as the Man ef Europe, Never 
did sublimer mocives inspire a nobler reso- 
lution. (8) 

'« When," said he, " after eight years of 
" solitude and reflection in a country like 
'* America I left that country, it was only 
" with a fixed purpose of contributing to re- 
" store peace to the world, or of falling in 
** the attempt." Determined to accept of 
no command, he brought in tribute to the 
common cause, his name and sword. He 
spoke of his intentions with the frankness 
and simplicity natural to generous minds. 
He was animated with the liveliest indigna- 
tion in speaking of the government of 
France ; of the oppressive yoke imposed 
upon his country ; of its sufferings, of the 
sufferings of the world ; and the well found- 
ed hope he cherished of replacing France in 
the station due to her, of restorin^ to her 
freedom, her manners, and her glory, infused 
12 



134 

an unusual composure into all his delibera- 
tions. The magnanimous views of Alexan- 
der confirmed him in his generous hopes. 

The first impressions of the mind are sel- 
dom effaced in one of a frank and ingenu- 
ous disposition. Moreau preserved to the 
hour of his death the illusions of his earlier 
years, anckpLn invincible attachment to politi- 
cal opinions, v^hich he himself acknowledge 
ed, Vv^ere purely speculative. A long resi- 
dence in the United States had confirmed in 
him sentiments which he always professed 
with equal moderation and sincerity. 

Moreau held the same language in the 
camps of the allies; but time, and above all, 
the example of France, had taught him that 
a good man should not allow the dreams in 
which he may indulge, to influence his po- 
litical conduct. He was aware that a repub- 
lican government, whic h requires of man an 
ideal virtue, is not suited to the present con- 
dition of I he great European states ; he was 
cousciousj also, that this form of government 
had been profaned in the eyes of the greater 



135 

part of tnankliid, by the horrors and calami- 
ties of the French revolution ; but his natural 
character and the circumstances of his life 
had conspired to exalt his niind to those 
purer and more elevated regions, where it 
dwelt without an effort. He felt himself 
among the heroes of antiquiry, in the bosom, 
as it were, of his own family. The study 
of history brought him continually acquaint- 
ed with the most virtuous and greatest of 
mankind. He glowed with ardor at the 
story of Leuctra or of Marathon ; he would 
gladly have followed Demosthenes to the 
tribunal ; would willin >ly have died with 
Leonidas before Thermopylae. 

But when he descended from these lofty 
regioH3j and an order of events that consti- 
tute the perpetual glory of mankind, his 
calm and sober reason resumed its wonted 
ascendency. Fully con\^inced of the neces- 
sity of a monarchical government, he reserve 
ed for a few congenial minds only, what he 
called his imaginary state. 

When he considered the state of Europe, 



136 

and examined into the wants of that great 
and exhausted body, he desired for France 
a lawful governmeDt, in which strong bar- 
riers should secure the civil liberty of the 
individual. He wished to see her return to 
moderation abroad, and stability at home. 
Happy had it been for France, could he 
have lived to accomplish all he had designed 
for her glory and her welfare. 

What was the astonishment of the army 
of the enemy, what the terror of its chief, 
when they learnt that General Moreau was 
in the ranks of the confederate host. It was 
attempted to conceal from the French this 
important news ; but it spread itself with 
rapidity— soon a confused sentiment of sur- 
prise and admiration awoke the recollec- 
tions connected with the great name of Mo- 
reau. The memory of his exploits, his vir- 
tues, his humanity, rushed upon minds 
weary of bondage ; and astonishing results 
were about to ensue when a dreadful calam- 
ity suddenly deprived us of a hero, whose 
name alone was strength. 



137 

The campaign had been opened under 
the most favorable auspices. The union of 
Russia, of Austria, of England, of Prussia, 
and of Sweden, presented to view a mass of 
efficient force, that struck a terror into the 
oppressors of Europe. Nothing was wanting 
to this glorious assemblage. Moreau, high 
in th^esteem and approbation of all the ar- 
mies, was the depositary of the general 
hopes. In his behalf all wishes were united, 
every heart opened at his approach, and 
Moreau, single in the midst of so many na- 
tions, preserved that noble simplicity of 
character, so amiable in great minds, and 
that admirable ascendancy which distin- 
guishes them. 

But the moment of the sacrifice as come, 
and the mysterious destinies of this illustri- 
ous man drew toward their accomplishment 
—Hostilities had recommenced on the 17th 
of august, on the 27th the army of the al- 
lies was before Dresden— Moreau, at the 
side of the powerful monarch whose esteem 
and confidence he had gained, shared all 
12* 



138 ? 

the dangers which his great soul took a 
pleasure in braving. Moreau, exposed for 
the first tinie to the murderous fire of an 
army he had so often led to victory, follow- 
ed with his eyes its movement, and with 
that comprehensive glance which ruled for- 
tune, rapidly combined the dispositions and 
hopes of the hostile armies. Nothing an- 
nounced any unusual danger; but alas, how 
inscrutable the designs cf Providence ! what 
surprise ! what grief ! A cannon shot, from 
the intrenchments of the enemy, strikes 
Moreau; he falls; consternation seizes 
every heart ; he only is calm ; he seems 
untouched, unmoved himself, he offers con- 
solation and encouragement ; he expresses 
hope. 

A litter was instantly prepared and Mo- 
reau was carried, bleeding to the place where 
the head quarters had been established the 
preceding night. There it was determined 
the amputation should be performed. I shall 
not dwell upon the details of the operation 
he had to undergo, a painful and fatal ope- 




139 

ration which exhausted his bodily powers, 
but could not shake his soul (9). On no oc- 
casion has the empire of an heroic spirit been 
more conspicuous ; never were displayed 
greater composure, greater force of mind ; 
deceitful t«ppearaaces that encouraged in all 
hearts a hope of preserving the life of one, 
whose every hour was numbered, and whom 
an unseen hand was hastening toward the 
heaven, that had ordained his sacrifice. 

The same evening the mournful and so- 
lemn train resumed its march. In proportion 
as the disastrous news was spread, grief was 
seen portrayed in every countenance. Mo- 
narchs, generals, officers, soldiers of every 
nation and of every kind, approached, not 
but with trembling, the litter on which Mo- 
reau lay reclined, and all carried away with 
them an eternal lesson of fortitude and re- 
signation. On the 60th they reached Lauen, 
by way of Rabenau, Altenburgh and Duchs. 
Moreau now grew weaker, but no complaint 
escaped him, and his countenance preserved 
its usual serenity. Me spoke little, but his 



HO 

voice was firm and resolute. At Lauen? 
whence he wrote a few lines to Madame Mo- 
rean, he continued to lose strength. Having 
asked of Colonel Rapatel, his former aid-de- 
camp, a glass of water, which was conveyed 
to his lips by that officer, Moreau gently 
pressed his hand, and expired without a pang, 
on the second of September, at seven in the 
morning. 

The approach of death gives to the last 
words of celebrated men a touching and pro- 
phetic character that moves every heart. — 
To transmit them to posterity is a sacred du- 
ty. All that Moreau said upon his bed of 
suffering breathes that calm and affectionate 
spirit which so eminently distinguished him. 
He said to the emperor Alexander, who was 
in tears, '' Sire, you see here the trunk only 
*' left, but the heart is still within, and is 
" wholly yours." To Colonel Rapatel he 
said, "No, I am not in pain now; but I 
" have suffered all that man can suffer : an 
*' amputation is a most painful thing, and two 
*' in succession — it is too much." And to 




141 

the same, after having spoken of the Empe» 
ror of Russia ; '* Courage, my dear friend, 
" courage ! is it not a pleasure to die for 
" such a man ; and, above all, in so glorious 
'« a cause." Six hours before his death, hav- 
ing spoken of his situation, he said to Colo- 
nel Rapatel : " I know I am not out of dan- 
" ger. If I die, do not forget to tell the 
*' French, who shall speak to you of me, 
*' that I had hoped still to render some ser- 
" vice to my country ; that to free her 
" from the galling yoke that oppresses her, 
*' and to war against Bonaparte, all weapons 
" are allowable ; that I would have conse- 
*' crated what little talent 1 possess to the 
'' cause of mankind, but that my heart be- 
" longed to France/' To an officer, who 
wondered at his firmness — "I have nothing 
" to reproach myself with ; my mind is at 
" rest ; I do not fear death, and that perhaps 
'' is what will save me." 

Now, if some scornful and captious spirit 
should dare to ask, what Moreau has done for 
the common cause ; I would lead him to this 



142 

feed of sorrow, I would show him a specta= 
cle which the ancients considered worthy of 
the deity, a virtuous man struggling with 
death, I would say : " Behold those mutilat- 
" ed, bleeding limbs, those fading eyes, those 
** clay-cold hands, that drooping head ! T he 
*' name of that man shook empires ; yet not 
<* a single one of the obscure virtues of an 
" honest man, was wanting in him — All 
'* earthly glories have crowned his mortal 
" course, and the palm of martyrdom its 
" conclusion. He has traversed the seas to 
" seal with his blood a cause whose triumph 
'* he did not witness ; and has died a painful 
" death, far from his family, far from his 
" adopted country, in the midst of nations, 
" many of them strangers to his life, know- 
" ing nothing of him but his name, and who 
*^ saw him fall without being aware, perhaps, 
** of all that he cairied wi^h him to the tomb. 
♦* Say, merciless censors, are you so famili- •" 
" arized to human virtues that you set no 
*' value on generous self-devotion, and un- 
«* shaken fidelity, on stern integrity, on com- 



/ ^ 143 

" passion for the sufferings of mankind, 
" and that holy enthusiasm, which crowns 
" its victims with a circle of immortal glory. 
" Have you the presumption to search so 
" deep into the designs of God, and to re- 
'* quire of the weak, frail instruments of his 
" will, more than his wisdom allows them to 
*' accomplish. Do you believe, in truth, that 
*« he who will remember a sigh, or a glass of 
** water gi-ven in kts name^^ has not at this time 
" turned an eye of compassion upon sufFer- 
" ing virtue, upon humbled greatness, upon 
<' noble resignation, upon entire devotion to 
«' the cause of justice and mankind. Abstain, 
" I entreat you, from fruitless efforts that dis- 
«* grac^ you ; from idle slanders that serve 
" only to betray your rancour. If the sight 
" of this painful couch, on which lie, virtue, 
" courage, and misfortune, cannot soften 
" you, be content to brood in secret over the 
*' malicious passions that torment you ; to 
" murmur within yourselves only, at the 
^^ greatne ss that confounds you. It is to you 

* Bossiiet, 



144 



** noble and elevated spirits, it is to you, sen- 
'' sible and generous hearts, that I entrust 
'* this sacred charge. — Watch over the glory 
*' of this departed hero ; and be assured, that, 
*' since the cradle of the political liberties of 
«' Europe was, like that of Christianity, to be 
" bathed in the most precious blood, a day 
" will come, and the day is near at hand, 
** when regenerated Europe shall, like reli- 
'* gion, c unt its martyrs and its apostles." 
And you, wretched and guilry nation, 
who now atone for the extreme of licen- 
tiousness by the extreme of servitude ; who, 
having formerly extended the limits of the 
human mind, seek now to plunge it again 
into the darkness it emerged from ; strange 
and inconsistent people, by turns the victim 
and the executioner ; the object of hatred 
or of pity, outdoing all enterprise, outbrav- 
ing all courage, baffling all theories, impa- 
tient of lawful power, yielding and submis- 
sive to tyranny ; greedy of triumphs, sur- 
feited with victory. It is to you, French- 
men, 1 address my concluding words. I 



145 

have spoken in behalf of truth and virtue ; 
I have shown you Moreau such as he r^ jsUy 
was. Dcire to shut your ears aga^Bs! the 
calumnies that beset them, the iusi V^us 
falsehoods that mislead you. Listen to the 
voice of your own conscience, which de- 
clares: "Moreau was not the enemy of 
<« France ; he desired nothing but her hap- 
" piness and safety, and he fell, as a martyrj 
" at the entrance of the lists." 

Reflect on his virtues, his exploits, his tro- 
phies ; anticipate the tardy sentence of pos- 
terity, and you will acknowledge, that his 
glory was connected with your welfare, that 
his intentions were as pure as was his life, 
that his death, in fine, is the greatest of your 
misfortunes. 

Providence, in accomplishing its decrees, 
disposes at pleasure of its creatures, and 
guides them in ways inscrutable to all ex- 
cept itself. Moreau appeared for a moment 
before you ; out the hour of your dehver- 
ance had not yet arrived, and he fell beneath 
13 



146 

your violence, as the last monument of glo- 
ry that remained for you to overturn ; a 
mournful and horrid sacrifice, which seems 
to have been reserved by heaven for the 
same hands that had violated the a«hes of 
Henry the 4th and the tomb of 1 urenne. 
Frenchmen, this marble seals your destiny, 
and sets a limit to your hopes — It encloses 
the deliverer you sighed for ; him who, re- 
calling you to feelings of humanity, would 
have brought you back to those sacred prin- 
ciples which no people has, hitherto, with 
impunity renounced. At some future day 
you will bedew with your tears this foreign 
land ; you will press around this isolated 
tomb ; you will make these sacred porches 
resound with your lamentations; but your re- 
grets will be fruitless; your tears will not alle- 
viate your griefs ; these ashes will remain in- 
sensible, this tomb be mute; or if, interrupt- 
ing the silence of death, a voice shall issue 
from this monument it will cry — *' Humble 
^* yourselves in dust before the throne of 



147 

«« Eternal Justice ! Reverence its decrees ! 
" Wait, in trembling and in tears, until the 
'« excess of your suffering shall have moved 
" the compassion of that Providence? to 
«* whose visible interpositions, you have 
«« been, so often blind." 



J^^OTES. 



(1) " It was proposed to me, as is well kno^yn, to 
place myself at the liead of an enterprise nearly re- 
sembling that of the 18th Brumaire. My ambition, 
if I had possessed m§ch, might easily have found ^ 
plausible disguise, might have honoured itself, even, 
with the name of patriotism." Speech of General 
Moreau, Tuesday, 16th Prairial. An. 12. (l5th June, 
1804.) 

(2) The following extracts from a manuscript of 
General Moreau's, of unquestionable authenticity, 
will, no doubt, be read with great interest. 

" I think it wrong ever to give battle where there 
not almost a certainty of success. Frederick often 
had his enemy within reach, but knew how to re- 
strain himself; a battle inconsiderately offered to the 
Russians brought him to the very brink of ruin. 
The battle of Hochstett, which ought not to have 
-18* 



150 

been fought, was felt during the ten years of war 
that followed it. It is very rarely the interest of 
both generals to fight : the most skilful of the two 
eorapels the others the great art, therefore, is to give, 
not to receive the battle. It is very rare, also, that 
the forces are equal. The army that relies upon its 
cavalry, endeavors to draw the other to the ground 
that suits it, which, ©f course, the other should avoid. 
An army which has been unfortunate at the opening 
of a campaign, should not risk the fortune of a battle 
without the greatest eireuraspection, nor until suffi- 
cient reinforcements shall have restored confidence to 
the soldier}'. A state which has on its frontiers sev* 
eral armies, should, in geiieral, direct the movements 
of the whole in the same ummMm as those of each in- 
dividual army, in its particular line of operation, are 
conducted. When these give battle, it is almost in- 
variably in refusing one part to give the other more 
effect. The state, in like manner, sometimes destines 
one of its armies for a powerful effort, and always at 
the expense of those which are intended for defensive 
operations, and which should take especial care not 
to begin with battles v/hen opposed to an enemy su- 
perior in numbers. Undoubtedly, armies that are 
meant i^^r effort and offence, must fight battles, there 
is no other way to conquer; but is the case the same with 
those which are opposed to them ? Would not more 
skill be shov ri in avoiilin?^ batltes against an invading 
army, but merely delaying its advance by well plan- 



idl 

iied diversions, by detaehments on its eommuuieatiofiSj 
by attacking corps that happen to be exposed | in a 
word, by making a war of manoeuvre, that may aftord 
time to the threatened state to strengthen the army 
charged with its defence, and place it in a situation 
to try the fortune of a battle with a prospect of suc- 



cess 



?'» 



(3) I extract from the same manuscript, which has 
been placed in my hands by Colonel Rapat^l, the fol- 
lowing opinion respecting Charles the Xllth, an opi- 
nion which bears the stamp of a master's hand. 

" I think Charles the Xllth has been too severely 
juddge. He would probably have been the greatest 
captain of his age if he had lost the battle of Narva. 
That inspired him with too great a contempt for 
his enemies, and too much confidence in his own 
troops. He was a victim to the excess of qualities 
that constitute a great commander." 

(4) Every thing connected with the 18th Fnictidor 
and the denunciation of Pichegni,has been admimbly 
well explained in the argument of M. Bonnet, in^be- 
half of Moreau. We may perceive, it is true, in that 
excellent piece, the shackles imposed upon a free ex- 
pression of opinion, and a plain exposure of the 
truth; but it nevertheless reflects great honor o?i 
both the head and the heart of M. Bonnet. A short 
time before the arrest of Moreau, the First Comsul 



152 

sent to propose to him the Legion of Honor. Moreati 
replied to the person charged with this proposal— 
" The masi must be mad 5 I have commanded it for 
'^^ ten years." 

(5) Morrisvilie in Pennsylvania, upon the Dela- 
ware, near Trenton, thirty miles from Philadelphia, 
and sixty from New York. — Moreau's house was the 
most conspicuous in the place. 

(6) Moreau wrote, on the 11th of February, 1813^ 
from New York, to Colonel Rapatel : " The events 
^* that have lately taken place in Russia, are of a 
" most extraordinary character. The great man has 
^^ dwindled there surprisingly. — Besides the folly he 
" was guilty of in going to Moscow, and remaining 
" there three weeks too long, as far as I have been 
" able to judge from his own bulletin s, an the re- 
" ports of Koutousoff, it appears to me that Bona- 
" parte lost his senses at Smolensk, that he ought not 
" to have remained there above a day, but have has- 
" tened to repass the Dnieper, and to cover himself 
" with that river, if he had need of the least stay; 
" wISich I think would, even then, have been impro- 
" per." — He added, " It is rumored that Bonaparte 
" is dead ; nothing happier could befall him under 
'* his present circumstances. One who does not know 
" how to meet death, is unworthy of the share of glo- 
** ry to which he seemed to have pretensions. He 



^•' is Hot in the situation of a subordinate General, wIkj 
" might fiave been commanded to perform stich fol- 
" lies ; all is of his own iiivention, Ms own execution %, 
" he would have ascribed the whole glory to himself^ 
" if he had succeeded ; the disgrace, therefore, justly 
" belongs to him, and he is a dastardly wretch if he 
" survives it. It remains for us to pity the weak, 
" miserable victims of a frantic and cruel ambition, 
" This should serve as a lesson to mankind ; but 
^' none will profit by it." Moreau wrote again on 
the l7th of February : " the whole of that Russian 
" campaign, both going and returning, is character- 
" ized, in a most extraordinary manner, by impru- 
" deuces and faults, which I find it hard to reconcile 
^* with Bonaparte's experience in war. He has acted 
" like a spoiled child of fortune, thinking nothing 
" impossible to his star 5 but that of the north has 
<* failed him. I can form bo idea how the horrible 
'^ tragedy will end." 

(7) An extract from a letter written by Moreau a 
few days previous to his death, will show what were 
his sentimenis in relation to this subject. 

«* Imperial Head-Quarters, 21st August, 1813. 

" I am with tl|piFmy ; about to war against Bona- 

^* parte, and doing so, I assure you without the least 

*° repugnance 5 being well convinced that if I can 

'^ eonlribute to his downfall, I also shall receive mj 



154 

*^ share of the thanks of France, and the whole world, 
^^ To overthrow Bonaparte, it makes little difference 
" what banner we ralSy under, provided we succeed. 
" If Robespierre had been killed by the royalists, th© 
^* republicans would have thanked them four and 
" twenty hours after." 

(8) If any personal resentment whatever was 
mingled with the great motives that fixed the destiny 
of Moreau, it was, perhaps, the indignation excited 
in him by the unworthy treatment, which Madame 
Moreau experienced, on occasion of two voyages she 
was obliged to make to France. The first time, she 
was closely watched by gen darmes. The second 
time, which was in the month of August, 1S13, she 
did not without great difficulty, obtain permission to 
land, was obliged to embark again in the month of 
December following, and to proceed to England at that 
tempestuous season of the year. Her husband's feel- 
ings were deeply wounded by the recital of these vex- 
ations and sufferings. 

(9) When the amputation of the left leg was fin- 
ished, and Doctor Wylie had examined the right leg, 
he could not refrain from a movement expressive of 
terror ; Moreau, observing it, said immediately ; — 
" Well, must this one be taken off too ? Come then, 
" be quick," 



155 

'l^ie letter which liis Majesiy tlie Emperor 
Alexander addressed to Madame Morean? does too 
Hiuch honor to her illustrious husbari i! , 'h be omitted 
here. It i^ives, moreover, the truest and most im- 
pressive idea of the relations that had beeii sp»>tita- 
eeeusly formed between two so pure and oobls minds. 

" MADAME, 

" When the dreadful stroke which reached Gen- 
•' eral Moreau, even at my side, deprived me of the 
" experience and counsel of that great man, I cher- 
" ished a hope, that with the most attentive care he 
" might still be preserved to his family and to my 
" friendship. Providence has otherwise determlrsed. 
" He died, as he had lived, in the full vigor of a 
*^' strong: and unshaken mind. The ^reat calamities 
" of life admit but of one remedy, which is, to see 
" that they are shared. la Russia, Madam, you will 
f* find every where these sentiments ; and if it suit 
'* you to establish yourself there, I shall make it my 
*' study to em'iellish the existence of a person, of 
" whom I esteem it a sacred duty, to become the con- 
"^ soler and the support. I beg you Madam, to rely 
" apon me with entire confidence 5 never to leave me 
" uninformed of any occasion in which I may be use- 
'' ful to you, and always to write directly to myself. 
" To anticipate your wishes will ai^'ord im the high- 
" est pleasure. The frjend^hip whie 1 attaches me 
" to your husband exieads beyond the tombj and I 



156 

'^ bave no other means of acquittiiig myself toward 
^^ liira, at least in part, but by doing all that lies in 
^i my power, to assure the welfare of his family. — 
" Accept Madam, on this sad and painful occasion, 
*' this testimony of friendship, this assurance of my 
^^ sentiments. 

« ALEXANDER." 

Toplitzj Qth September, 1813. 



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